Prodigal
by Sumi-Sprite
Summary: AU, one-sided Thorki. T for swearing and implied sexual content. And douchebag!Odin. Includes Good!Mama!Laufey. Loki never tried to destroy Jotunheim or fell into the Abyss. But after he discovers what he truly is, and when Thor is banished, Loki sets out to find answers. And far behind him, Thor also follows to find the truth of what their family has been keeping from them…
1. Chapter 1

**Prodigal.**

Ch. 1

_A/N~ Hahah…f***…so I've been working ont his for a few weks now, but only had it on my AO3 account. But after some thought I decided to move it over here as well to feature to my other FF-exclusive readers. So…yeah…man I should really be updating my other sh**. TwT_

_Enjoy my first Thor AU fic!_

_~S~_

Sumary:

Loki tried to destroy Jotunheim or fell into the Abyss. But after he discovers what he truly is, and when Thor is banished, Loki sets out to find answers. And far behind him, Thor also follows to find the truth of what their family has been keeping from them…

_So…_

_Shall we start now?_

**X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X**

"…when were you planning to tell me?"

"…"

"…never? Someday? Perhaps after Thor was crowned, and I forever left in his shadow?"

"We never intended for any of this to happen…"

"But it _did_…and now I can't help but wonder; why?"

"We only meant to protect you."

"From what? The fact that I will always be second to Thor? The fact that, no matter how much I had tried, I can never measure up to father's expectations? Or is it that fact that, despite you knowing what I was, why I was so different, you somehow could not understand why I was always in such pain on a daily basis?"

"…"

"Well? Tell me!"

"We made a mistake…"

"Yes, you did," Loki said, "You the made the mistake of lying to the God of Lies…"

**X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X**

When Thor had returned to Asgard, he had anticipated a hearty welcome from the Warriors Three and Sif, a warm hug from his mother, a stoic yet proud greeting from his father, and a sarcastic greeting from his prickly brother.

But this was not to be.

For although he had returned with a clearer mind, and an even calmer sense of resolve, Thor was greeted by no one but the Gatekeeper, Heimdall, and a horse.

"Heimdall!" Thor greeted the Gatekeeper as the Bifrost vortex slowly settled to a stop, "It is good to be back! Where is mother and father?"

"My prince," Heimdall greeted in his usual detached tone, "The King and Queen are waiting for you in the throne room."

"I see," Thor said thoughtfully, "And what of everyone else? The Warriors Three, Sif, and Loki?"

Heimdall seemed to pause briefly, a not uncommon habit for the all-seeing Gatekeeper. He often fell into the various visions of the many realms, sometimes pausing in the middle of a conversation. Though it was unintentional, and he by no means meant to ignore whoever he was talking to, no one could say whether he was in control of this phenomena or not.

But this pause was different. Thor somehow seemed just barely catch the ever so slightly visible twitch of the Gatekeeper's brow. He frowned, suspicious. But he no sooner dismissed the odd feeling; Heimdall was loyal to the royal family. He had no reason to hide anything from Thor, or anyone for that matter.

"Heimdall?" he probed.

Heimdall blinked his gold eyes slowly. And as if broken from a trance, he spoke once more. Yet somehow, his monotonous voice seemed colder, stonier.

"The King and Queen wish to speak with you, my prince." He said.

Thor was very well aware that Heimdall had neglected to answer his question. But with how things had gone, and how things were now, he suspected much needed to be discussed before pleasantries could be exchanged. It did not deter the feeling of being brushed off so easily, but Thor made due with what he was given. Perhaps his parents could explain what had been going on during his impromptu banishment.

"I see…" he said evenly, "Then I bid you farewell, Gatekeeper."

Nodding to the dark skinned man, he trudged for the horse – obviously meant for his transport. He swiftly mounted the large animal, turning it and getting ready to urge it into a gallop. But he was stopped.

"My prince…" Thor turned his head to look at Heimdall, a brow raised.

The Gatekeeper did not look at Thor. Instead, his ever watchful gaze was locked onto the impenetrable abyss of the void. His eyes, while looking forward, were not truly looking into the deep abyss. But rather, while his eyes were unseeing, his sight was elsewhere. Just where he was peering into on a daily basis, Thor did not know. He could vaguely recall a time in his younger, more curious years trying to weedle Heimdall into telling him what he saw. But the Gatekeeper never once relented, and would only chuckle lowly and shake his head.

"Yes, Heimdall?" Thor asked.

A brief pause, before the Gatekeeper spoke.

"Always remember who you and those around you are." He said.

Blinking owlishly, Thor did not even try to fully comprehend what it was Heimdall had just told him. He has more than once spewed off riddle-like pieces of advice and droll. And it never made sense to him until a specific situation came up.

He often wondered if Heimdall could see the future…

Nevertheless, Thor nodded.

"Thank you, Heimdall." He said, before he kicked his horse into a gallop for the palace.

Once he was far out of range, galloping over the Rainbow Bridge, Heimdall spoke once more.

"Remember this, or the young prince of ice shall be lost…" he said softly.

**X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X**

"Father! Mother! I have returned!" Thor bellowed as he entered the golden haven that was the throne room.

He grinned widely as his mother made a beeline for him, engulfing him in her long, warm arms. He eagerly returned her embrace, nearly crushing the slender woman to his chest.

"Oh my boy…" Frigga rasped, "I have missed you. I thought I had lost both of you…"

"Tis good to be home, and I-" Thor paused, pulling out of his mother's embrace to frown at her questioningly, "Both of us? What do you speak of?"

Frigga's lips tightened, and Thor looked up form hearing his father sigh upon his grand throne. 

"Thor," Odin spoke – he sounded so tired, like the old man he represented, "We must talk…"

The Thunder God frowned, not fully comprehending just how grave this unknown matter was. He could only think that it was about his actions against Jotunheim and his banishment, and so he moved to speak his case.

"Father, I know my actions were deplorable, but my banishment has-"

"This is not about your banishment…" Odin said, startling Thor. Odin gazed down at Thor with his single eye, Gungnir clutched tightly in one hand.

"It is about Loki." He said.

Thor tensed, suddenly alert. Loki? What about him? Had he caused trouble while he was away? Did something happen to him?

He looked around the room, searching. He could not see Loki anywhere within the golden hall. In fact, he could not even see any guards or servants. The throne room usually boasted a large number of capable guards to stand watch over Odin and his throne. And yet, it seemed the only people within the room was himself, his mother, and father.

"…what has happened?" he asked.

He did not notice how Frigga's lips tightened into a thin line, her hands clutched together tightly in front of her dress. It was as if she was restraining herself from blurting out a string of words that could crumble Asgard itself. Odin was as stoic as ever, his expression unchanging. He looked tired though, but Thor chalked that up to his recently waking from the Odin-sleep. And yet…

"Father, please," Thor implored, "What has happened to my brother? Was he hurt? Did he do something?"

A hush once more fell over the room, and somehow it seemed colder, darker. Thor could feel a sense of unease and anxiety creeping up his spine.

It was as if a chunk of ice had dropped into his gut, and he looked imploringly, almost begging, to Odin.

"Father…where is Loki?" he asked breathlessly.

"Thor…Loki is…" Odin help a hand up, stopping Frigga from saying anymore. The All-Mother was shaking, her face pale, and it _terrified_ Thor.

"Thor…" Odin started calmly, "Your brother, Loki…"

A tired sigh, and for the first time in his whole long life, he turned his gaze away from Thor.

"He is gone."

**X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X**

Far away from the golden realm of Asgard, a single small figure trudged the icy snows of the realm's icy terrain. To anyone else, the terrain would prove to be a hindrance, and the weather a devilish force working against them. They would say the wind itself was like the monsters that inhabited the ruined world; cold, vicious, merciless, and out for their warm blood.

And yet to him…it was no bother. And it infuriated him just how comforting this cold felt to him. How _familiar_ and freeing it felt…

His cape and hood billowed in the harsh winds, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he pushed forward, until he had reached his destination. The decimated remains of what was once Jotunheim's grand palace. And in no time, he stood before the throne room.

The jagged, frozen throne of ice and stone was unsurprisingly occupied. Garnet eyes – the color of heat, of fire, yet they were so cold – gazed at him like a cat at a mouse. And although it seemed they were alone, he knew that other Frost Giants lay in wait within the ice itself.

He did not even so much as flinch as a dozen or so Jotun guards emerged from the ice and surrounded him. His hidden eyes were only for Laufey.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you." Was the hushed hiss from the Jotun King.

"I've come alone and unarmed." Was the stranger's reply, oddly subdued.

"To what end?" Laufey drawled.

A heavy pause. At any other time, Laufey may have already ordered his guards to kill the stranger. But something nagged at him. The stranger – obviously Aesir – intrigued him. And his voice, it sounded familiar. He would swear he heard that voice very recently…

The man tilted his head to look up at Laufey, his hood slightly obscured – his eyes were green.

"To make you another proposition." He said.

Realization dawned on Laufey, and a cold smirk stretched his blue lips.

"So you're the one who let us into Asgard…" he drawled.

"Perhaps," the man said, "But that is not important at the moment. I come for only one thing, and one thing only."

Laufey's eyes narrowed, and he held a hand up to an aggravated guard; a survivor from Thor's rampage. No doubt he was itching for retaliation, and was quite outraged an Aesir would come to demand something from their King. But as before, he was intrigued. He would play along…for now.

"And what would that be?" he asked.

The man said nothing at first, and Laufey could feel his patience waning.

Back straightening, the man reached out a pale, bare hand from his tightly closed cloak, and pushed his hood back. Vicious snarls and growls erupted from the Jotnar around him, but he paid them no mind – not even as many readied their weapons and had them poised for every vital point on his body.

Laufey himself was stone-faced as usual, but internally, he was both fuming and becoming increasingly anxious.

"So…" he drawled, resting a cheek on a palm, "To what do I owe the second prince of Asgard? Surely what you seek is not on my realm."

Loki, expressionless, shook his head.

"That title has long since been nothing but a running joke," he said, "And it is only you who can give me what it is I seek."

Laufey quirked a brow, eyes narrowing further, "Which would be?"

Loki seemed to try and compose himself, drawing in a long, deep breath of the cold air. He shuddered as the sub-zero air filled his lungs. He imagined he looked quite uncomfortable to the onlookers and Laufey. But truly, Loki had never felt such rapture from _truly_ breathing…

Fiery emeralds locked with icy garnets. And in a single puff of breath, he spoke.

"The truth."

To be continued…

**X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X**

_A/N~ First chapter~ Whoo-hoo! Get ready folks, I am a sucker for Good!Mama!Laufey, so look forward to that later down the line! Review lease!_

_~S~_


	2. Chapter 2

**Prodigal.**

Ch. 2

_A/N~ Chapter two! Hope you all are enjoying this so far! _

_~S~_

**X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X**

Thor could remember a time, long ago, when things were at the very least moderately normal. Or perhaps 'normal' was too strong a word. Normalcy was a concept best known in places like Midgard, not Asgard; and certainly not in relation to his family and friends.

When you are a prince of a high realm, things like normalcy and consistency were not a gift, but an earned privilege. Some days garnered for some chaos and overall stupidity, and others were just too dull to even recall. Those were the days Thor hated most.

Or at least, he used to hate them.

The green, black, and gold gilded door he stood before remained unopened. This, as much as Thor could see, was the only consistency left in his life. Because the more he thought about it, the more he pondered it, the more he seemed to realize what normalcy and consistency yielded to him in the past.

Normalcy meant waking up every morning and knowing your family was still whole. Normalcy was walking into the dining hall in the morning, noon, and evening and seeing his younger brother there earlier than him. _Sanity_ meant that Loki was still _alive_ and behind that damn door!

…but no, this was not meant to be.

It has been this way for the past fifty years, but still, Thor simply could not wrap his head around it.

Loki was gone – _dead_.

Just the thought of it sent nausea and panic through Thor's body, his hands clenching into fists at his sides and jaw tightening. And yet, for all the confusion, rage, and overall disbelief, Thor could never bring himself to open Loki's chamber door. He'd been coming to his brother's rooms almost every day since he had died, though for what reason, even he could not be sure.

All he knew was that this was _not right_. Nothing, from Loki's passing, to the disconcerting reaction of Asgard, was right.

He could see people's faces – some familiar, others not – and their expressions. Thor hadn't been to many funerals in his life, and the few he has attended were for his friends' relatives or family companions. He had never been to a funeral for his own family.

But even still, the fact that he could recall _everyone's_ faces, their expressions like beacons in his memories – it made him _furious_.

Thor could still remember the funeral, and couldn't help but allow a wave of shock and disgust to wash over him as he witnessed the spectators…

Everyone had attended. Court members, Councilmen, royal ladies and promising warriors. Food was in abundance, a banquet of sizzling meats, steaming breads, and tooth-rotting sweets. The mead was flowing, and everyone was in high spirits, mingling and chattering amongst themselves.

It was as if he wasn't even at a funeral. It was like he was attending a quiet party.

Odin had announced Loki's death to Asgard a day or so after Thor's return – both to give his son time to readjust to his life, and to let him make peace with the news. And like any funeral for royalty, it was opulent and full of grandeur. Royals and other wealthy Aesir attended the funeral in throngs, and Thor at the time had thought it nice that so many people had come to attend his brother's funeral.

Now, he just knew it had been for appearance sake – and likely to gauge whether or not the announcement had been true, or a bad joke on someone's part. Perhaps the second prince had finally lost his marbles and proclaimed his own funeral?

Thor greeted many of the guests, eyes shadowed and bleary from his night of sleeplessness and tears. The sky had been painted dark turbulent shades of grey and white, with thunder rumbling every now and again in the distance. But not a single drop of rain fell.

And yet, as he continued to wander the packed hall of mourners and guests, Thor could not help but notice something…

They were smiling. Everyone was smiling, joking, laughing quietly, and conversing animatedly with one another. At first, he had been so star struck and believed he had stepped into a whole other room hosting a party. But upon looking at the high table, seeing his father and mother seated, eyes staring straight ahead in unblinking reserve, he knew this was not so.

A few Councilmen he knew were sitting together near the high table, laughing uproariously at some joke or comment one made. A few noble ladies were huddled together in one corner, not so discreetly eyeing one of the many warriors attending the funeral. Many, once seeing Thor, giggled to themselves and twittered away to one another like mad hens. And just overall, everyone was in such a light mood – there was none of that dark, oppressing feeling Thor only ever felt at funerals; or perhaps graveyards.

He was so confused, he had looked up at his mother with concerned eyes, as if lost. When she locked eyes with him, her shoulders fell and she could only shake her head.

It cannot be helped, she was saying.

So even she had noticed. Of course she noticed, this was her youngest son's funeral! How could she _not_ notice? The people were just lucky they were staying a good distance away from the high table. If someone was within hearing range of his mother, and they decided to crack some joke or continue on as if they were at a ball, Thor would throw his hammer through their heads. Consequences be damned.

"_Truly Thor, do you solve all of your problems with nothing but brute force?"_

Thor almost dropped his cup of mead at hearing his brother's voice in his head. And he truly would have said those words, or something similar, to him if he were around.

But then again, if he were around, they wouldn't be attending his funeral.

Not even Sif or the Warriors Three mourned - Loki's own friends...or were they his friends at all? Fandral was his usual flirtatious self, a whole crowd of women around him as he boasted about his latest venture. Volstagg stuffed himself with gusto as usual, laughing and drinking heartily with some other warriors. Hogun was...well, Hogun, so Thor wasn't too sure how to take his attitude. And Sif was sharing a few pints with some other warriors and Valkyries, laughing and exchanging stories of adventures and battles.

The only one who had wept at Loki's funeral had been Frigga.

_'Not even I can shed a tear for my brother...'_ he thought ruefully.

As for Odin, Thor could not say whether he was saddened or not. Odin had always been a stony man, his expressions usually impossible to read. He could only guess he mourned for his youngest son in private with Frigga, having to maintain an image for Asgard. Asgard's king could not weep - not even when his own child dies.

To Thor, it left a bitter mixture of disgust, disbelief, and shock in his mouth. Odin he could understand; he was the king after all, and image had to be maintained no matter what. But his own friends…people he thought were Loki's friends as well.

"_They were never __**my**__ friends, Thor. They are __**yours**__."_

Loki had often said these words whenever Sif or the Warriors Three would poke fun at him and his 'womanly' ways. But that was all it was; just jokes!

…right?

Thor did not know, and the entire evening he actively avoided his companions, much to their confusion. But they let him be, suspecting he was just mourning and that he would be over it eventually.

And when the second prince's body was taken out to sea, clad in his best garb, Thor could not help but notice how peaceful his brother looked. He looked like he was at ease, his usually flat or scowling face relaxed. He was so pale though – paler than he usually was. And it only served to remind Thor of why he was on that boat, being pushed out towards the edge of their waters.

He had almost flew after his brother's body when the flaming arrows rained down upon it, as if he was expected to save Loki from being burned. But a hand on his shoulder, courtesy of Frigga, stopped him from taking any rash actions – compulsive or otherwise.

Thor swallowed dryly, finally sighing and turning away from his brother's door. He made his way back to his own chambers, unsure as to what he was going to do there. Most days he seemed very lost, as if unsure of what he should – or could – be doing.

His head was too full of unanswered questions, memories, and iwhys/i. Even now, Thor could remember the day they told him Loki had died. But it was not a full memory; rather, it was like that one dream you mostly recall but cannot fully put your finger on. It had been like a dream - or a nightmare...

**~x~x~x~x~x~**

"G…gone…?" Thor stumbled over his own words, so stunned as he was, "What do you mean _gone!?_"

"Thor…" Frigga chided, though it was a weak and barely noticeable reprimand.

"It is fine, Frigga," Odin sighed, turning his attention back to Thor, "Thor, your brother…While you were gone, a prison riot broke out. We suspect they were riled by the presence of the Jotnar, and I sent Loki and other Einharjar to stop it."

"However, we misjudged the severity of the situation, and many prisoners had broken out. One such was a Dark Elf…and he was unknowingly armed."

Odin paused, as if to let his words sink in to Thor's mind. The Thunderer was too stunned for words, and only looked on with wide, terrified eyes at his father. The old king was almost reminded of his days of telling war stories to Thor and Loki as children. Both wide eyed, excited yet terrified of knowing what happened next.

Now that he thought about it, almost all of the stories he told them were wartime events from the Asgard-Jotunheim war.

Odin wanted to laugh at the cruel irony.

"He was armed. With a knife. And while Loki was distracted with using his magic to corral the prisoners back into their cells and protect the Einharjar from attacks…the Elf stabbed him from behind."

Frigga flinched, as if she were reliving a memory not her own. Thor blinked owlishly, dumbly. He shook his head.

"No…a knife? A petty _knife_ would not kill Loki so easily!" he snapped.

"You are right, a regular knife would not," Odin confirmed gravely, "But it was not the knife itself that killed him, but the poison we were unaware of coating the blade."

Poison…the word ran through Thor's head over and over again like a runaway train. He felt like he was listening to one of those older Midgardian music players; a broken record player.

"D…didn't the Healers do anything…!?" he rasped.

Frigga spoke before Odin could, her voice tired and thin.

"They tried. Loki had killed the Elf after he was stabbed, but no one, not even Loki, knew of the poison before it was too late…" she said.

"At first we thought he was just ill. He's always been a bit frail of health, and we assumed your banishment had affected him greatly." Odin sighed.

"And by the third day of your banishment…he didn't come to breakfast," Frigga said, her voice tightening, "So we sent a guard to go fetch him. We thought he was perhaps caught up in his Seidr books again…"

"But he did not answer the door, and when the guard looked inside…" She paused, unable to continue.

"He was lying on the floor of his room, motionless," Odin said wearily, "The guard checked for signs of life, but found none."

"We suspect he died sometime in the early morning…"

**~x~x~x~x~x~**

That had been fifty years ago…

And still to this day, Thor could not actively recall the next couple hours after those words left his parents' mouths. He could recall very vague snippets of scattered memories he could not seem to put in order. It was mostly words and broken sentences, with very few images that lasted perhaps a second in his mind if he tried to focus on them too much.

And as much as he tried, he could not piece them together.

"Loki…funeral will be held…tomorrow…" his father.

"He…not suffer much…said nothing…" his mother.

"Not long after…Sleipnr…away…connection to Loki…"

"He's dead? Wow…" was that Fandral?

"Can't say I'm surprised…" Sif?

"At least…warrior's death…did not expect…poison…"

"Will be there…support you…" Volstagg?

Too many voices, too many scrambled memories, and far too many blank gaps in his mind to form a coherent memory. Thor shook his head, as if trying to shake away the memories and voices, to no avail.

Entering his own room, Thor sighed wearily, slumping heavily into an armchair in his sitting room. He pinched the bridge of his nose, a throbbing resonating behind his forehead. He supposed he should be doing something productive today instead of moping about like a floating dust mote. Actually, now that he thought about it, wasn't he actually supposed to do something today?

A firm knock at his door startled Thor from his thoughts, his head turning to face his door.

"Enter!" he called.

The large double doors opened slightly, a guard poking his head in.

"Your highness, Queen Frigga requests your attention in the war room." He said.

Oh, Thor thought dumbly. That's right, he was supposed to attend a council meeting today. Odin saw it fit to re-introduce him to his duties as future king of Asgard, and the best way to start was to become familiar with the political goings-on in the realms.

Though to be honest, Thor found the meetings boring and a waste of time.

A scoff in his head, _"Dear brother, being king is not all about swinging your hammer like a primitive Midgardian."_

He needed to stop doing that.

Thor nodded, pushing himself out of his chair and fixing his attire.

"Aye, thank you." He said.

The guard nodded and disappeared outside Thor's door, shutting it with a quiet click behind him. Once he was gone, Thor sighed and raked a large hand through his hair, catching on a few tangles and a small braid. He imagined he must look a sight, and resolved to quickly clean up before heading into a council room full of elder advisors that would scrutinize him if he so much as blinked wrong.

**~x~x~x~x~x~**

"-and so the trade routes from Vanaheim and Alfheim remain tight and resolved…"

Thor would admit, he wasn't exactly that great a listener when it came to meetings about politics, or anything that had to do with serious matters. The best way to get his attention was to talk about weapons, war strategies, or really any form of violence.

When they were younger, brasher, Loki had called him a brutish ape for such thoughts. Thor retaliated by calling the Trickster a womanly magic user. Loki didn't speak to him for a week afterwards, and until Frigga made Thor apologize.

'_Thank the Norns it is almost over…'_ Thor thought with a slump of his shoulders. He did not dare slouch or lean on his elbows – such actions would make Odin look bad, and he did not feel like having his side pinched by his mother for such sloppy behavior.

So Thor resolved to try his own patience, stretching it as thin as it could go before the final Councilmen called the meeting of the realms to a close.

Odin was about to dismiss everyone, but was stopped by Frigga.

"What of Jotunheim?" she asked.

The Councilmen and Thor looked at Frigga in confusion and surprise. Odin's eye narrowed, his hands tightening around the arms of his chair. But he said nothing.

"Uh…what of it, your Majesty?" the head Councilman, one of Odin's oldest advisors, asked.

"We are here on a monthly basis to discuss the matters, treaties, and overall happenings of the nine realms, including our own," Frigga said calmly, "And yet, it seems we only discuss eight of the realms each time."

The various Councilmen looked at one another uneasily, as if mentally asking one another how to respond to the queen's inquiry. Thor himself was staring at his mother in surprise, not understanding.

Why in Hel would they discuss anything having to do with Jotunheim? The realm was a dead – or at least dying – wasteland of ice and snow. The Jotnar themselves were of no concern, as they were virtually cut off from all other realms. Supposedly no one even traded with them anymore. But then again, with how little attention Thor paid to these meetings, he could be wrong. And although there were hidden Paths to the icy realm, no one dared to enter it. The Frost Giants may be a fallen people, but they were anything but helpless or weak.

Thor has more than once overheard young warrior's enthusiasm for war, wanting to find a path and bring back the head of a Jotun to make a name for themselves. Shockingly, it was Thor himself who dissuaded these youthful notions – his lesson in his banishment all those years ago had done him more than a world of good, calming the raging storm of bloodlust in his heart and head.

Though that didn't mean he held the Jotnar in high regard. They still had yet to figure out how they had gotten into Asgard and past Heimdall, and Odin had called off the investigation quite early. Many speculated who – or what – had let them into the Vault. But no one was able to prove anything.

"Well, what is there to discuss of Jotunheim?" A second Councilman inquired, "No one goes there, and the Frost Giants don't exactly have many ways of communicating outside their own realm."

"Not that they could – I hear the newer generations can't even read or write." A younger advisor chortled.

Frigga's voice steeled, "And why do you think that is?"

The advisor stuttered at the queen's steely gaze, "Well…they are not like us, I am sure it is because-"

"They are monsters? Barbarians?" Frigga suggested flatly, "Or perhaps it is because they do not have the proper resources to teach their children? I imagine their days are focused solely on survival and teaching their children, few as they are, to survive. Things like books and schooling cannot be given because we have cut them off from the needed resources."

The chamber fell silent, the Councilmen refusing to look the queen in the eye. The advisor that had spoken out flushed a few dozen shades of red, stuttering out an apology before shuffling behind a few of his scowling seniors.

Frigga turned her attention back to the room at large.

"Heimdall has reported a sudden spike in Seidr that surrounds Utgard, hiding the Jotnar from his sight." She said.

"What are you suggesting, your Majesty?" A Councilman asked hesitantly.

"I am suggesting that perhaps Jotunheim was not as it once was," she said, "We may have the Casket, but they are a resourceful, proud people. It would not surprise me if they were rebuilding and prospering of their own power."

"That cannot be possible, my queen," the eldest Councilman said, "We took the Heart of Jotunheim itself, and it remains locked in the Vaults. The land there is dead and barren. This spike in magic could just be nothing, or perhaps one of their own has gained a bit more power."

"I agree, and Heimdall would warn us if anything seemed out of the ordinary." Another added.

Murmurs of agreement went about the room. Odin had still said nothing, but he was giving his queen a very odd look. Frigga shrugged delicately.

"Perhaps, but I should not like to disregard one realm out of the nine," she said, "Each realm is important to us, and plays a role in Yggdrasil's survival. If one realm dies, we all die."

"Not that it would be much of a loss…" the young advisor muttered. He no sooner flinched at the scowls his seniors gave him, and the stony look Frigga shot him.

"I am only saying that perhaps now is the time to end Jotunheim's desolation," Frigga said, casting her gaze to Odin, "They have suffered enough, and Midgard has long since forgotten its own history. There is nothing to forgive if there is nothing to remember."

The sound of a chair being swiftly pushed back caught everyone's attention. Odin stood before them all, large hands planted on the table, but his sole eye focused on Frigga.

"This meeting is adjourned, we will discuss more next month," he said, "Frigga, I would like to speak with you in our chambers. Now."

The harsh tone of his voice had everyone quickly packing their things and leaving. Frigga though was as serene as ever, gracefully rising form her seat. She cast Thor a small smile and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Go on and relax the rest of the day darling." She said.

Thor nodded dumbly, unable to say anything as his mouth laid a kiss on his forehead, and turned to follow his father out the door.

He was the only one left in the council chambers now, somehow unable to process what he had heard. For once, he had actually paid rapt attention to his mother and her words – perhaps it was the shock-factor that had him captivated, or some other reason. He honestly wasn't too sure. But something was nagging at him now, as if something had unknowingly clicked in place, but he could not place just what it was or what it meant.

He shook his head, frowning. This was defiantly a most confusing day. Perhaps some sparring in the yard will clear his head…

And try as he might, he could not ignore the chilling, sultry chuckle in his head.

"_Oh Thor, as if you don't know…"_

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

**Prodigal**.

Ch. 3

_~S~_

**X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X**

They watched their prince from across the training field. His movements were inept, not fully focused, not fully into the fight itself. It was such a strange, maddening sight to behold. Thor, the great God of Thunder, not fully focused on a fight? Even if it was just a friendly sparring match, it was still baffling!

Thor was never not fully into a fight. If anything, he lived for the rush and adrenaline. Battles and sparring were what he looked forward to, the reason he even got up in the morning. Yet here and now, after fifty years, he was still going on as if possessed by a ghost.

A ghost the Warriors Three and Sif wished would just cross over into Hel already.

"I thought the grieving period had already passed…" Fandral sighed, seated upon a bench. The others shook their heads.

"These things take time, Fandral." Volstagg said, though he didn't sound as confident in his own words as he should.

Sif scowled, crossing her arms, "Even in death, that Trickster is still a hindrance to Thor."

"Mind your tongue, Sif," Volstagg rumbled warningly, "Our king and queen do not need to hear us speaking ill of their son."

Sif rolled her eyes, but relented in controlling herself. But even still, she could not fully understand why Thor was still so listless and lost. His grief should have passed thirty years ago – if not quicker! This was a good thing; Loki had only ever held Thor back from his true potential. But no matter how much they sparred, went on adventures, or tried to lift his spirits with a trip to the local taverns, Thor simply could not see that he had not lost a brother, but a burden tied to his ankle.

She had never liked Loki. Even before he cut her hair off after a heated argument, thus changing her once golden hair into the stained darkness not unlike his own, she never liked him. And she never fully understood why Thor always had to bring him along on their quests and travels. If anything, he only ever got in the way. The only times he came in handy was when they needed his Seidr to start a fire quickly, or to purify questionable water. And even then they had to keep their guard up in case the fire spontaneously blew up, or the water would turn to snakes.

Thor said he found it in good humor, with very little protest. She and the Warriors, not so much. Loki's childish antics and his cowardly ways were unwanted. Yet none of them ever had the heart to fully voice this to Thor. They have dropped subtle hints and have voiced mild concerns about Loki, but Thor was nothing if not thick headed at times.

"He merely jests! You are his friends, you simply must find the humor in his actions." He'd say.

They, Loki's _friends_…

Loki was rarely right in their eyes. But he was damn spot on whenever he told Thor they were not _his_ friends, but Thor's. He said it in stark hearing range of them all numerous times. And yet Thor never seemed to notice how they would not move to correct Loki in his cold assumption.

They didn't even blink as Thor effortlessly threw his sparring opponent into a bench just a few yards to their left. The opponent – a younger warrior just starting out – called his surrender, to which Thor answered with his usual encouragements to keep training; maybe one day he could at least land a blow on Thor in a few thousand years.

"Maybe we should take him to the taverns again?" Volstagg suggested, "He always seems to be a bit looser of the tongue right after a spar and a few pints."

Sig nodded her agreement, "Yes, perhaps that would be best. Maybe we can figure out a way for him to finally move on."

Hogun had not said much, be he nodded all the same at the suggestion.

"Well then, now that everyone is on board, perhaps a change in scenery is in order!" Fandral said with a conspiring grin, "They just opened up this new tavern just at the edge of the town. If the mead doesn't have Thor relaxing, the lovely women who work there will."

Sif scoffed, but in a way had to agree. As far as they knew, Thor had not been on his usual _tavern ventures_ since Loki died. He's barely so much as looked at the most indecently dressed woman in years!

"Well, now that that's decided, let's round up the old goat." Fandral then proceeded to strut towards Thor, quickly catching his attention at the water barrels.

If this didn't get Thor back into his usual self, Sif didn't know what she would do…

**~x~x~x~x~x~**

"Another pint!"

"Fandral, he hasn't even finished his first one…"

"So what? Another!"

Thor rolled his eyes, but did not object as yet another pint of mead was shoved in front of him. Fandral was exceptionally drunk now, now working on his eighth pint, and laughing uproariously between two tavern wenches.

The prince sipped at his drink, vaguely noting that it was rather good. But he wasn't paying attention to the taste, or the slight buzz it was instigating – he hadn't drank in so long, he was almost mortified to realize he was becoming a lightweight.

Across from him, Sif was working on her third pint and casting him glances every now and again. Thor had half a mind to ask her what she wanted; she obviously wanted to say something, but judging by the slight scowl creasing her brow, he didn't feel like pushing his luck. He was in no mood for any arguments or heated debates.

"Come now Thor! Wipe that look from your face, be merry!" Volstagg bellowed.

"_Yes, be merry and stupid, brother. Come midnight, you will have consumed the entire tavern's stores of mead. You should be so proud…"_

"Guh…!" Thor choked slightly on his drink, pushing it aside as he coughed into his hand.

Fandral laughed obnoxiously, "What's the matter Thor? Can't hold your drink anymore? I bet even a lightweight like Loki could drink you under the table now!"

Though it was too late, the damage having already been done, Hogun slapped a hand over Fandral's mouth with a deadpan frown. Sif visibly scowled at the blond warrior, Volstagg palming his forehead in exasperation.

Looking to Thor, the Warriors and Sif could very visibly see as the Thunderer's eyes dulled, his entire expression closing off completely.

"Have a care with the words you speak, my friend," Thor warned in a low, rumbling tone. "It would be wise not to speak of my brother in such a tone or manner."

Looking around the table at his friends Thor decided it would be best to return to the palace before things escalated into the very thing he was trying to avoid.

"I bid you good eve. I fear that I am not the best of company at present." The God of Thunder stood and inclined his head to the group, expression still closed off.

He was in the act of turning around when Frandal managed to free himself from Hogun. "What has happened to you, Thor? Why do you continue to mourn Loki? The bastard only ever caused you problems. Why can you not see how much better off you are now without him around?!"

Thor froze for a second, shoulders stiffening and tight fists forming, before he continued on his path away from the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. He was near the tavern doors when Fandral gave a slurred shout.

"When did you become a coward to run away from mere words...?"

At this the entire tavern fell silent and began to move away from the Prince's friends, Frandal's two arm hangers being the fastest. The tavern owner was beginning to worry that his new establishment was not going to survive the night.

A crackle of thunder pierced the sounds of the night. Thor turned back, it almost appeared that lightning danced within the iris of his eyes, and he pinned Frandal with a glare. His gaze then shifted to the others, causing them to flinch slightly. But he noted that their stances showed their own frustration with Thor's continued grief.

"You seem to agree with Frandal's words…" came Thor's statement that was more than a question. Sif glared at Frandal, who had returned to his cups before giving an apologetic look towards Thor.

"We are only concerned with your continuing grief over... Loki's death." She tried not to spit the Trickster's name, not wanting to increase Thor's ire, "He has been gone for some time now, Thor, and you need to let him go so you can live your own life once more. You are not yourself anymore, and we are not the only ones that worry for your wellbeing. All of Asgard are concerned.

"Your lack of focus when training with the troops is very noticeable. Your participation in the planning the defense and guarding of our borders is almost non-existent. If this continues, we worry that word of your inattentiveness will get to those that wish harm on our realm."

Sif moved around the table to stand before the Thunderer, placing a hand on his bicep.

"We only want what is in yours, and the realm's, best interest. And the Tric... Loki is no longer a part of this. And we do _not_ think you are a coward." Frandal snorted into his drink, earning a thump from Volstagg.

Thor wrenched himself away from her touch, the rumbling outside growing in intensity and frequency. He had also noted Hogun and Volstagg's nodding to Sif's words in the background. Loki would probably be proud that he had actually picked up on their actions without letting on.

"My period of banishment from Asgard has taught me many things, one of which was that one should walk away when the words trying to provoke someone are of little value. This is not an action of cowardice, but strength of one's resolve.

"My continued mourning of my little brother, Loki, who died while I was banished, providing a lack of support and protection to him. It has little impact on Asgard's protections - which are as strong as ever. It is also not up to you or the people of Asgard to tell me to forget my brother, their Prince. If you were truly my friends, you would respect this."

By the end of Thor's rant, he was all but shouting over the raging weather outside. With that, he stormed out of the tavern without another glance.

The Thunder God was seething, his very body humming with raging energy. Truly, Thor wanted nothing more than to find the nearest potential enemy and smash their heads in. Perhaps a Dark Elf, or better yet, a _Jotun-_

'_Stop!'_ he growled, stopping in the near empty streets. He rubbed at his forehead, a headache setting in.

He had never felt so _angry_. Not since before his banishment has he felt sure wrath and ire. And at his own companions no less! But then again, they had never expressed such blatant disrespect for Loki, nor had they ever so offhandedly disregarded his grief. And their disregard of Loki himself…

"_They were never __**my**__ friends, Thor. They are __**yours**__."_

Thor felt his jaw tighten, his fists clenching to near white knuckled. That voice, his brother – it mocks him so readily and easily. A part of Thor was comforted by the silvery voice. Yet another part was also disturbed by it. The voice was his brother's, but it held far too much venom. Loki was not below a kind word or two, and was often fairly docile when unprovoked. He was the calm to Thor's storm, the silver to his gold.

And yet, this voice was more likened to Loki's Trickster persona. And that's all it was to Thor; a persona. Loki was not truly a trickster, a liar. Loki was his brother, an Asgardian warrior and Prince. He was…

He was dead.

The thunder calmed, the sky clearing of the grey clouds that seemed to gather out of nowhere. What was Thor doing anymore? If it had been one of his companions or Sif who had died, he was sure he would be just as listless. And Loki, what would he say? What would he tell Thor? Would he even seek the Silvertongue's council in such a situation?

'_Brother, tell me…what do I do? How do I…not forget you, yet move on? How can I go on without my brother by my side?'_ he wondered.

No answer was forthcoming. An odd, yet unsettling thing. Loki's voice ever reached out to him unless it was to mock or ridicule him. And Thor couldn't even find it in himself to be mad at it. Hel, he didn't even have the will to wonder just why he was hearing his brother's voice so much!

He sighed, approaching the gates to the palace. The Einharjar guards saluted him, their armor shining in the low light of the street lights and torches. Thor took note of their entirely gold attire, and mentally recalled a time in which Loki called them 'tacky'. Thor had disagreed, claiming their abundance of gold showed their status and prosperity.

Loki had only shook his head, calling Thor a fool.

Thor never understood why Loki was in such a prickly mood that day; perhaps he and their father had gotten into another argument. They seemed to do that a lot…

"My Prince?"

Thor startled, veering around just as he entered the palace halls to find a female servant behind him.

"Yes?" he inquired.

"Forgive me sir, but Queen Frigga requests your presence in her chambers." She said.

Thor turned fully to her curiously, "Did she say what for?"

The servant girl shook her head, "No sir. She only said to find you and make sure you came to her chambers."

Thor frowned, before he shrugged and nodded. The servant girl gave a short bow before falling into step behind her prince. Frigga's chambers were on the far west side of the palace, so it would take them a few minutes to reach her.

In the meantime, Thor took a moment to observe the servant girl from the corner of his eye. She was a pretty little thing, with long, dark blond hair and hazel eyes. She wore typical servant clothing – a simple beige dress and cream bodice with a white apron. Her slips shuffled silently against the opulent floor, her steps discreet and quiet.

"What is your name, my lady?" Thro suddenly asked.

"What? Oh! U-um, Sigyn, my lord." The girl, Sigyn, said with a slight flush.

Sigyn…why did that name sound so familiar?

"My apologies, but…have we met before? You seem very familiar." Thor said.

"I do not think so, my lord," Sigyn said thoughtfully, "I work in the north wing of the palace…I was actually a maid for your late brother…"

Thor blinked as it seemed to click in his head. _That_ was where he had heard her name! Sigyn – she was a maid to Loki. He had spoken highly of her a handful of times in the past. He had called her intelligent and witty, a promising youth in minor Seidr abilities. This in itself was very startling; Loki, complimenting a servant? Thor supposed he talked to her frequently when he was in his rooms. Were they friends…?

"Were…were you and my brother close?" he asked.

Sigyn smiled sadly, smoothing her dress, "We talked a lot. I am not sure if you could call us friends, but we shared a lot in common. He was a wonderful man to serve under…"

Thor took note of the slight blush marring the young woman's cheeks. Hm, did she perhaps hold an infatuation for his late brother? Not that he would blame her; Loki was quite an attractive man. Though most of Asgard considered blond hair, bright blue eyes, bronze skin, and rippling muscles to be a quality of beauty in men, he often did not understand how no one could admire Loki's fair skin, green eyes, slight form, and rich dark hair.

Thor nodded, smiling slightly, "Yes, he was a wonderful brother as well…"

Sigyn's smile grew slightly, "He spoke much of you, and very highly."

'_He did?'_ Thor wanted to ask. But he held his tongue, not wanting to disturb the small bubble of peace he and Sigyn had managed to conjure. So instead he nodded as they continued on, passing many doors, halls, and guards along the way.

He suddenly looked back at her, curious, "If you were one of his maids, what do you do now?"

"Queen Frigga made me one of her handmaids when Prince Loki…passed…" she said, before adding hesitantly, "I still go back to his rooms though, dust a little bit. It just seems so odd for me not to anymore."

At that moment, Thor felt a small well of shame creep into his heart. He had not the courage to enter his brother's rooms, and yet this slight young woman did. But then again, perhaps they were not as close as he perceived. She obviously felt something for Loki, but he could not be too sure on their relationship.

Though he had to admit, it took courage for her to admit she still entered the rooms of a deceased prince. Many would see it as disrespectful, especially if she was doing so without others knowing. But Thor found it admirable – she was keeping a small part of Loki alive. His rooms were his domain, his sanctuary. And she made sure they stayed as pristine and untouched as Loki left them. Without using any form of magic, she was freezing his brother's room in time itself, keeping it as it was the day he left.

"My lord?"

Thor startled from his thoughts, turning to look at Sigyn. She stood before the double doors leading to his mother's chambers, one hand gripping the handle to one of the doors.

"We have arrived, my lord," She said, pulling the door open, "The queen awaits you in the sitting room."

"Ah, thank you, Sigyn…" he said, but stopped in the door's threshold, and looked back at her, "And thank you, for speaking of my brother fondly."

Sigyn blushed, stuttering out her own gratitude with a low bow. She excused herself then, shuffling away hastily. Thor chuckled; she was cute, it was a shame she and his brother never progressed past the point of mere conversation companions.

Sighing, he turned back into his mother's rooms, shutting the door behind him a she did so. He quickly located the door leading to his mother's sitting room, and upon entering, spotted the regal queen sitting patiently on a lounge by the fire. A set of tea and small snacks was spread out on a table set before her, the chair across from it empty.

She looked up upon hearing the door open, and smiled at Thor as he approached her.

"You wished to see me, mother?" he inquired.

"Oh don't be so formal, Thor," Frigga chuckled, gesturing to the seat across from her, "Come, relax. I wish to speak with you my son."

Thor smiled slightly, taking his seat across from his mother. She swiftly poured him a cup of tea, pushing it in front of him along with a few cookies. Thor took a sip of the tea, resisting the urge to cringe slightly at the taste. He never much liked tea, preferring the spicy taste of mead or wine. Loki, however, liked tea, and was often invited to Frigga's rooms or the gardens to sit and talk with her over a few cups.

Clearing his throat, he set the cup aside and regarded his mother, "What did you wish to speak with me about?"

"A mother cannot simply chat with her own son?" Frigga grinned.

"N-not at all! I was just wondering, I suppose…?" Thor raked a hand through his hair meekly, suddenly uncertain.

Frigga chuckled, "I am only teasing, Thor. There is actually something I wish to speak with you about…"

Setting her own cup aside, she folded her hands neatly in her lap and regarded Thor compassionately.

"How are you feeling lately?" she asked.

Thor quirked a brow, "I feel fine, I suppose. I do not feel sick…"

Frigga shook her head, "Not physically my dear, but emotionally."

"I do not understand…"

"Not just moments ago, the sky looked close to breaking into a storm," she said softly, and Thor had the grace to look abashed, "I am concerned for you, Thor. It has been many years since your brother's passing, and yet it is as if you just heard it yesterday."

Thor frowned, lowering his eyes to the table's edge. So she wanted to talk about ithat/i. Well, he could at least count on the fact that she would not be like the Warriors Three and Sif. She would never ridicule her own son. Perhaps her council would be helpful. She and Loki shared that in common – they both knew how to talk, but they also knew how to listen.

"I…suppose I just do not fully believe it yet," he sighed, "I do not understand why either. He is not here, and yet I sometimes expect him to be at breakfast before me in the mornings, or holed up in the library with some dusty old books…"

Frigga smiled sadly, "We both seem to share that in common, my son. I too often feel as if he is just away somewhere, and I expect him to be home the next day."

"But he isn't…he won't be." Thor said.

Frigga shook her head, "No, he won't. The dead do not come back. That is something not even we gods can do. Nor should we even consider such an act."

Thor looked sharply at his mother, "But surely…if given the chance, wouldn't you want Loki back?"

"Of course I would want him back," Frigga said, "But Thor, you must remember. While we may be gods _to a degree_, we are not true gods. We do not bring birth and new life as a true god would. We do not open the gates of Valhalla and welcome those who have died. And we do not get to choose who will die or live…"

Thor frowned, fingers curling against his thighs. He knew she was right, but he simply could not accept such a thing. If he was given the chance to bring his brother back, then he would.

"And Thor, think my child," Frigga continued, seeing the storming conflict in his eyes, "If Loki was truly some place where he was happy, where he was free to be who his is, and truly be at peace…would you take him away from that?"

Thor stare wide eyed at his mother, his lips thinning. Would he take Loki away with him – away from a place where he could be who he is without ridicule, a place where he could laugh, live, _breathe_, a place where he was not the Trickster, the Liesmith, but _Loki_. Would Thor take him away from that? Just so he could have a brother again?

He did not have an answer…he couldn't answer those questions. Not right now. Probably not ever.

Frigga sighed, looking over into the fire distantly, "Your brother was a wonderful man, Thor. But not everyone could see that. He had no choice but to hide that goodness, to wrap it in lies and trickery to protect that wondrous light in his heart…and no one could see how painful it was, to hide himself like a frightened animal."

The fire crackled and popped, the orange, yellow, and red colors dancing in Frigga's blue eyes. The autumn colors did not seem to belong in her pale blue eyes. A raging, fiery storm trying to intrude upon a soothing winter snowfall. But that snowfall was not at peace. Her eyes read like an open book, her irises the color not of ice, but tears.

"Loki was not at peace here, Thor. He may have been happy at times, but not always," she said, "I blame myself for not realizing sooner. Or perhaps I did, but thought things would change. I expected _Loki_ to change. Something no mother should ever expect of her own child."

The tears froze suddenly, turning to ice. And her eyes narrowed.

"We were unfair to Loki, and we have paid the price we deserve," she said, "But he did not deserve the pain we bestowed upon him. We can only hope, wherever he may be, that he has forgiven us."

"Loki could never hold a grudge against you, mother," he said certainly, "He could never even raise his voice to you. He loved us."

"Perhaps…" Frigga said slowly, sipping from her tea once more, "I do not doubt his love. But nor do I doubt his anger."

"Anger?" Thor asked, not understanding.

Frigga turned to look at her son, blinking away the spots in her vision from staring at the fire for so long. She set her cup aside and cleared her throat.

"There is something else I wish to ask you." She said.

"What is it?" Thor asked.

"Have you heard of a mysterious sorcerer known as The Sky Traveler?" Frigga asked.

Thor frowned, shaking his head, "I have never heard of such a person."

"He has become quite famous as of late," Frigga said, "He wears a black and emerald cloak, concealing his face from all who meet him. He travels the realms through the Paths and other unknown means, and his abilities using Seidr are incredible, unmatched by any known Seidr user."

"And he is…causing trouble?" Thor asked uncertainly.

"Not at all. In fact, he seems to be a wayward traveler. He travels atop a dark horse that can run at a speed like no other," Frigga said, "He heals those who need it, performing acts or duties someone may hire him for. And in exchange, he collects the strangest of things."

"How so?" Thor asked. Did the traveler not exchange his services for money?

"Usually it is seeds or bulbs. Sometimes it is herbs and other plants, even bags of soil and fruits and vegetables."

Thor blinked, dumbfounded. Why in the Nine Realms would anyone perform any services for such meager things? If it was produce he wanted, he could demand money and buy just as much, if not more, items at a market for his services. And why would he need herbs if he knew healing?

"And any money he does collect, he usually spends on basic educational books of various levels. Sometimes he will even buy or trade basic tools for things like fabric or weaving materials."

Throw frowned, suddenly suspicious. This…made no sense whatsoever. This strange traveler was becoming more and more enigmatic by the second. His interest was suddenly piqued.

"And his items of trade…they are quite a rarity, and he has been trading them for such meager things."

"What does he trade?" Thor asked.

"Pearls."

"…pearls?" Thor repeated. Frigga nodded.

"Pearls of all shapes and sizes, all the colors of the Rainbow Bridge. No one knows where he gets them, as pearls are a rarity among the realms."

Thor nodded in agreement. He knew not much of jewels and fares like a woman would, but even he knew how rare pearls were. As far as he knew, there were only three realms you could get them from –Midgard, Vanaheim, and Jotunheim. But only one of those realms had large enough seas to use pearls in trade, and harvest in abundance…

"Jotunheim, in its prime, was the only realm you could get so many pearls of such value from," Frigga said, "But their seas have long since frozen, their aquatic life scarce. It makes me wonder how they are doing now."

Thor frowned, hands resting on his lap to prevent him from fidgeting. His mother was trying to tell him something. But what, and how it was associated with this 'Sky Traveler', he did not know.

She suddenly looked Thor in the eye, her expression almost pleading.

"I worry for you Thor – all of Asgard worries for their remaining prince," she said, "You have not been yourself these past fifty years. And I think perhaps it is time for you to start a new journey."

Thor blinked, stunned. A journey? Did she mean she wanted him to go out on his old adventures like he used to with the Warriors Three and Lady Sif? He almost cringed. As if now, he was not thinking too highly of his companions at the moment. And was now really a time to be traveling again?

"Mother, I am not sure if now is a good time…" he said weakly.

"Thor, my darling, when will it ever be the right time for you?" Frigga asked gently, "It has been fifty years. And although even I still mourn my son, I know he would not want us to wallow in our grief. He would want us to continue as we were – not to forget him, but to remember him with a smile."

Remember him with a smile…Thor chortled ruefully, placing his face in his hands. Of course, why would his brother wish such misery on his family? Loki did not hate them so. So why was he incapable of fulfilling his brother's wishes?

"You are right as always, mother," he said, looking up at her with a weary smile, "Thank you. Truly."

Frigga smiled brightly, "I figured it was what you needed my son. Now, I don't want you dallying for too long. The realms await you, and you have missed much."

Thor laughed, "I shall leave within the week, after I speak with the Warriors Three and Sif."

"Good," Frigga said pleasantly, before she sobered, "I am glad you hold your brother in such high regards. Perhaps you can show them how wonderful a man Loki was, and what they have missed in him."

"I do as well, mother," Thor said, before standing, "I should prepare for departure, and speak to father about my leave and-"

"No need," Frigga said, "I have spoken with Odin, and he understands and has given his blessing. All you need to do is pack and tell me when you leave."

Thor quirked a brow, but smiled nonetheless. Truly, he often wondered what he would do without his mother. Probably drown in his own bath.

"Thank you, mother." He said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

They bade each other a good night, Thor departing almost immediately to get a good night's rest before he confronted his companions the next day.

But once he was gone, and her door, closed, Frigga's smile fell into a despaired frown. She sighed, swirling the remains of her tea in her cup.

"Do not thank me just yet, my son…"

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

Across the realms, in a secluded forest in the thick woods of Alfheim, a weary traveler wearing a cloak of emerald and obsidian led his dark horse down a path. The horse was unsaddled and unbridled, one would assume it was wild, or perhaps its rider rode it bare back. The only thing that adorned the horse was a long green cord around its neck, bearing a dark blue gem. They stopped at the edge of a small pond, nothing but the sounds of night animals and insects ringing through the air.

The horse nickered to his rider, bobbing his head slightly. The traveler chuckled.

"Yes, this is quite cliché, isn't it?" he said.

Patting the horse's flank, he sent it off to nibble on some grass. Once the horse was occupied, he turned back to the pond and kneeled at its edge. His gloved hands touched the water's surface, as if testing it. A couple tiny fish swam just under the still water, the high moon reflecting off its surface.

Looking around once, the traveler reached into the satchel at his hip and took out a small vial. Uncorking it, he carefully dribbled a single drop onto the water's surface. The dark blue liquid clouded a small section of the water briefly, before it seemed to swirl and whirl like a whirlpool.

A bright glow took over the pond's surface as a face began to appear at its edge. At first it was nothing but a foggy mess of blue, red, and black. But after a moment, the image cleared.

And revealed the face of a Jotun.

The blue face smiled, garnet eyes creasing ever so slightly.

"You are late." He said.

The traveler smiled under his cloak hood, reaching up to push it back. The face under the hood was an icy blue, hair as black as night cascading down his back. Matching garnet eyes gazed down at the larger Jotun in the water.

"Fashionably so…" he said, "My Dam."

Laufey chuckled.

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

**Prodigal**.

Ch. 4

_~S~_

**X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X**

The morning of the beginning of Thor's new adventure saw the Thunder God in the stables in the early morning. His horse was loaded up with all the necessities he would need, as well as a few extra things he simply could not live without – mostly clothing and weapons, some food, water, and a trinket or two he did not want to part with.

Urging the horse to take its bit, he looked over at his companions, all saddling up their own horses and packing up their supplies. The Thunder God swallowed dryly, lips tightening. He wasn't too sure how things had gone so…well, he suppose a good word would be nonchalant. The morning after his mother suggested he go out and seek this Sky Traveler, he had met up with the Warriors Three and Sif in the training yards.

At first, he wasn't too sure what he was going to say. He certainly was not going to apologize – he was not in the wrong. And judging by the obviously hung-over Fandral moping by the water barrels, neither was he. He likely didn't even remember anything he said the night prior. And when Thor had approached his companions, fully intending to gauge their reactions before speaking, it seemed no one was going to speak of the night before.

He was greeted with their usual 'good morning's and shoulder pats. At first, Thor was quite confused; had he dreamed of the whole argument in the taverns? Or had he become so much of a lightweight that only a few drinks had planted a false memory in his head? He honestly did not know, but he could recall how he had convinced them to accompany him on a new adventure…

**~x~x~x~x~x~**

"Care to wage a spar against me, Thor?" Sif asked with a cocky grin. Though much to her disappointment, Thor shook his head.

"Not today, Sif, I actually came to speak with you all about a…proposition." He said evenly.

Their interest suddenly piqued, the Warriors Three and Sif gave Thor their full attention. Even Fandral seemed to take interest despite his post-drunken headache.

Thor cleared his throat, leaning his weight onto one foot. He suddenly felt…uncertain, put on the spot if you will. It has been some time since he last proclaimed an adventure with his companions, and it certainly felt like it. A part of him was slightly insulted though; why did he have to be at center stage when the Warriors and Sif have yet to truly bring up the happenings of last night, and apologize for slandering his brother's name?

He shook his head, sighing. There was no helping it, it seemed. Another thing he learned in his time on Midgard that he found coming in handy at this moment; sometimes it was best to just let things go. Not an easy feat all things considered, but it seemed necessary. Plus, in his current state, he wasn't sure if he could really muster up an argument, let alone a speech on how terribly they – or more Fandral – had spoken of his late brother.

Coughing into his hand, Thor finally mustered up some form of courage from somewhere, and spoke.

"Though I do not agree with the…tact…of the prior night's discussion," Thor almost smirked at the downcast looks his companions now wore, but reined in his amusement, "But after some thought, I must agree with you all. It is time I try and lay my grief to rest, and start anew."

The Warriors Three and Sif seemed to perk up, now completely focused on Thor. They seemed eager – Fandral's hangover seemed to suddenly recede as he was staring up at Thor with wide eyed anticipation.

"That…that's great Thor!" Sif said, smiling, "What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking a bit of a traveling would be a good start," Thor said, "My mother actually recommended it for us. She says there has been a mysterious sorcerer going about the realms. They call him the Sky Traveler."

"The Issveðr?" Volstagg said, shocked.

Thor blinked, "Issveðr?" he asked.

"Well, that is one of his names," Volstagg said, the others nodding, "We have heard of this Sky Traveler, but never much outside the usual drunken tales in the taverns."

"Supposedly he traverses the Nine Realms, a cold wind following him everywhere he goes – hence the name," Sif said.

"Aye, quite a mysterious fellow, though he only gained attention about ten years ago," Fandral added, "Supposedly he's been traveling for much longer though. No one truly knows."

Volstagg nodded, "Did Queen Frigga give any information on him?"

Thor shook his head, "No, even she is not privy to his intentions or reasons for traversing the realms."

"I hear he's been literally everywhere, even Helheim and Jotunheim," Sif suddenly frowned, "However, he has never entered Asgard."

"Why is that?" Thor asked. His friends shrugged.

"No one knows. Some say he was banished from Asgard, others say there is a power in Asgard that keeps him out," Volstagg said, "Some even say he's cursed, that he cannot enter our realm for fear of tainting it."

"And his horse – a dark stallion – supposedly, from what people say, is even faster than Sleipnr." Sif said seriously.

Thor frowned, perplexed. He had to wonder if this horse was a child of Sleipnr. But then again, perhaps it was a coincidence. From what Odin had told him, Sleipnr had vanished when Loki had died. His father had said that it was perhaps the horse's connection to Loki that prompted him into leaving. He may have been a horse, but he was still a child born of Loki's own body and flesh.

They had been so close, too. Thor could not count how many times Loki would disappear into the royal stables just to talk to Sleipnr. He often read to him or simply talked to the eight legged horse. Thor had once asked if Sleipnr could understand Loki. Loki had only smirked and said that that information was a secret between he and Sleipnr.

Thor still often wondered what had become of the stallion. It wasn't exactly hard to spot an eight legged horse as large as Sleipnr in a herd. Many thought he was dead, others saying his body just vanished into nothingness after Loki's death. Odin didn't even put out a search for the horse…

"Mother says his Seidr is not to be trifled with." he said absently, "I know not what he has used it for, but if she knows enough to warn me of it, we should be cautious."

"Bah, magic cannot stop warriors like us." Volstagg grunted, "Even a user as powerful as the Issveðr cannot stifle us. He is but a prodigal traveler."

"People even say it's not even a he sometimes," Fandral broke in, grinning, "No man would ever want to practice such Ergi arts. I believe it is a woman."

Thor frowned, actively trying and barely succeeding in not correcting Fandral. Loki was a master in the art of Seidr, and he had been a powerful man. He's downed Thor in sparing matches more times than the Thunderer could count with a simple flick of his wrists and a flash of green energy. Granted, they usually had those sessions in private; many watching warriors had called Loki a cheater and a coward when he used his magic in the arena. Most times, Loki ignored them. But sometimes he would get angry enough to set someone's trousers on fire; literally.

Thor may not have fully understood why he chose spell books over true weapons, but he nonetheless did not question the other. Or at least, not intentionally. He had asked Loki once why he chose magic when he could easily pick up a sword without having to spend hours upon hours cooped up in a library studying of all things. Loki had only shook his head, saying Thor wouldn't understand even if he tried to explain it.

"Surely no one knows," Volstagg said, "No one has seen his – or her – face. He does not speak, or interact with others outside business affairs and trade for services."

"Strange things he asks for…" Hogun, surprisingly, broke in, "Seeds, bulbs, herbs, even dirt…"

"What would he need with dirt?" Fandral questioned, "It's _dirt_. He can get his own without having to do anything." 

"Mother says it is not dirt he trades for, but soil. Planting soil," Thor corrected, before turning to Sif, "Outside his Seidr abilities, does he use any weapons?"

She shrugged, "As far as I have heard, not much. Witnesses have said he uses knives and a staff. That's it though."

Thor blinked in surprise. Loki had used daggers and a staff – had mastered them quite quickly as well. But like his magic, his weapon choices were seen as cowardly and ineffective. Why hit something over the head with a staff when you can cut their heads off with a sword, was their logic. Though he was also quite skilled with the whip as well, and had discovered an innate fascination with it in their teen years – much to Thor's chagrin. He hadn't been able to sit properly for weeks before Loki calmed down enough to quit testing his whip out on Thor.

"Even still! This Issveðr sounds interesting," Fandral said, getting up and grinning at Thor conspiringly, "So, will we be seeking him out?"

"Yes my friends, we shall indeed!" Thor bellowed, grinning back widely. He was finally starting to feel like his old self again, and it felt amazing.

And judging by the wide and relieved smiles on his friends' faces, they were just as excited…

**~x~x~x~x~x~**

And after they had agreed to take a week or so off to go adventuring, they holed up in an empty meeting room in the palace to plan out their trip. They decided to take two days to prepare themselves and tell their families and friends where they were going. Packing was the easy part – mostly camping supplies and such things they would need. Thor did not even bother to bring it up to his father, as he was assured Frigga had informed Odin of his trip.

He was, however, a bit surprised Odin brought it up at dinner the night before he was to leave…

**~x~x~x~x~x~**

"Frigga tells me you, the Warriors Three, and Sif will be taking a trip to seek out the sorcerer known as the Sky Traveler." He said.

"Aye! He seems like an interesting fellow, and the others and I feel it is time I got out and about again." Thor said, though he shot Frigga a conspiring wink, which she returned with a smile.

Odin nodded, sipping his wine, "And how do you plan to seek this sorcerer out?"

Thor shrugged, "He is rather nomadic, never stays in one place too long from what I gather. We will likely just go on sources or rumors we might hear."

"How long do you plan to stay away from Asgard?"

"A week, perhaps two," Thor said, stabbing his fork into a potato, "Worry not father, I will be back before long. I will not shirk off my duties as future king."

Another nod, "Good."

Odin seemed to close the conversation then, and Thor and Frigga turned back to their meals. He paused from taking a bite from his boar though and looked up at Thor again, his one eye narrowed.

"One more thing, Thor." He said.

"Yes?" Thor inquired curiously.

"Stay out of Jotunheim." Odin said seriously.

Thor blinked, before he deflated slightly. He felt slightly abashed at his father's demand. Of course, he could understand why Odin did not want him in Jotunheim – he had nearly razed it to the ground the last time he was there. And it was likely the Jotnar wouldn't be very welcoming of someone who slaughtered many of their already scarce people. Still, he thought Odin would have forgotten, or at least forgiven, that by now.

But he simply nodded and went back to his meal.

Beside Odin, Frigga shot her husband a sharp look. He ignored her, and the Queen of Asgard only sighed quietly and sipped her water…

**~x~x~x~x~x~**

Thor tightened the bridle on his horse, testing the straps and buckles keeping his cargo held to the large equine. Once satisfied nothing would come flying off, he turned to his friends to see they too had just finished saddling up.

"Are we ready?" he asked.

He received an eager affirmative from his companions, urging a wide grin from the Thunderer.

"Let us be off then! To the BiFrost!" he bellowed.

Bellowing their war cries, they all mounted their saddles and rode off for the Rainbow Bridge.

The loud clicking and clopping of their hose's hooves was drowned out only by their laughter and bellowing words. Conversation more fit for a noisy tavern were shouted between them, Thor only joining in when spoken to. He was lightly disconcerted to find he could not really fully settled into a simple – though loud – conversation among his friends. Though he had to wonder; was this how Loki felt? Whenever they all rode off for some new adventure or jaunt, Loki rarely joined in on their shared conversations. A strange thing, considering how well versed he was with words. Perhaps Thor was mistaking intellect with chattiness – Loki was an overall quiet man really; you just had to be careful when he idid/i start talking.

He and his companions passed through the town and roads, their horses landing upon the iridescent road of the BiFrost. They could see Heimdall's observatory just a ways off, sitting just at the edge of the abyss of which their sea tumbled into.

'_I wonder where it goes…'_ Thor thought, the roar of the waterfalls gaining volume as they neared.

Indeed, where did those who fall into the abyss go?

A flash of gold then, and Thor looked ahead to see Heimdall at the BiFrost entrance, waiting for them. And someone else…

"Mother!" Thor bellowed, slowing his horse to a stop before the observatory. He and the Warriors and Sif dismounted, all quickly bowing to their queen.

"Oh please, no need to be so formal." Frigga laughed, the others straightening with lopsided smiles.

Thor laughed and embraced his mother, his large form nearly swallowing the woman's petite frame.

"Why have you come here?" Thor asked as he released her, "Not that I am not happy to see you. I am surprised though."

"I simply wished to see you off, and to wish you luck in your travels," Frigga said, straightening her skirts, "But also to give you something."

"Give me something?" Thor parroted, curious.

Frigga nodded, reaching into a hidden pocket in the folds of her skirt. She took out something wrapped in a silk blue cloth, holding it out to Thor. Perplexed, Thor took the wrapped cloth from his mother, carefully unfolding it with his companions hovering over his shoulders. Pushing the last fold away, he stared down at what was in his hand.

The first thing that caught Thor's eye was the startlingly green gem. The pendent was almond shaped and silver, Celtic filigree etched into the silver, and a round emerald set into its center. It startled Thor so much, the shade of green the emerald boasted; it was the same color as Loki's eyes…

"It is called Augunaðr," Frigga said, catching Thor's stunned eyes, "For luck you see."

Thor turned the pendant over in his hands, the chain glistening in the light of the morning. On the back of the setting were carefully scrawled words. He could not make out what it said though, as the language was one he did not recognize. And there was a seam in the pendant's side; like that of a locket…

He looked up at Frigga and grinned broadly, "Thank you, mother. Though I hardly think we will need much luck in our journey."

"Even still, you never know," Frigga said with a smile, "It might come in handy, and reveal things you are unaware of to you."

"It is magic?" Sif asked respectfully. Frigga shrugged.

"It is but an ancient gem, I merely thought it fitting for Thor's journey," she said, before looking to Thor with a gentle gaze, "It seemed fitting for you to take it. The emerald reminded me of your brother's eyes…"

Thor flinched, swallowing dryly. Yes…yes, it was just as he thought. Loki was not with them anymore, and therefore could not accompany Thor on this new adventure. But if he could not be with them in body, perhaps he could be in spirit.

Thor clenched his hand around the pendant, his grip firm yet yielding so as not to crush the precious stone. Frigga's smile widened as she watched her son regard his clenched fist fondly, and reached out to uncurl his fingers. Carefully, she took the cloth and the pendant. She tucked the cloth in his belt, and then unclasped the necklace. She had to stand on the tips of her toes to get her arms around Thor's neck, and she carefully clasped it closed just at the nape of his neck, brushing away any hair from under it.

"There, it is perfect my son." She said.

Thor looked down at his chest, the emerald gleaming with what Thor would swear was pride. Much like Loki's eyes, the emerald seemed to display faux emotions. Loki's eyes would always gleam when he was complimented or praised.

Odd, Thor thought, as he could only remember a handful of times Loki was ever praised…

Thor smiled and embraced his mother once more, looking down at her in gratitude.

"Thank you mother. Truly." He said, his voice strained slightly.

Frigga kissed his cheek, her hands resting on his shoulders.

"Keep it with you at all times, and be careful out in the realms." She said, "And if you do encounter the Sky Traveler, be kind to him."

"I shall, mother." Thor swore, gently squeezing his mother's wrist.

The Queen of Asgard nodded and stepped aside, allowing Thor, the Warriors Three, and Sif to enter the observatory. Heimdall awaited them on the central platform, his large, golden sword gripped between both hands. He nodded to his prince and his companions.

"My prince," he greeted, bowing his head respectfully, "To where do you wish to go?"

"Can you see the Sky Traveler?" Thor asked.

Heimdall's eyes grew distant, his mind's eye searching out the realms. A moment passed before he blinked slowly, cat-like, and focused back on Thor.

"I cannot see him, but I hear rumors of him passing through Vanaheim." He said.

"Then to Vanaheim we shall go." Thor proclaimed.

Heimdall nodded and started up the BiFrost, the observatory seeming to come alive with loud whirs and whines, a vortex spinning to life in its back. Thor stood before the vortex with his friends, looking over his shoulder and tossing a smile his mother's way. Frigga smiled back and waved delicately.

A moment later, Thor and his friends were sucked into the vortex, their forms vanishing in swirls of light and color as they were taken to a whole new world. Heimdall lifted his sword from the platform, the BiFrost slowing to a complete stop.

A beat passed before Frigga approached him suddenly, her expression blank.

They said nothing to one another for a long moment, their gazes locked onto the abyss that now lay before them. Mere seconds ago, Asgard's prince and his companions had stood before that darkly painted canvas. But now they were gone, swept away into a new adventure.

Frigga folded her hands in front of herself, her gaze never leaving the abyss.

"You will keep an eye on them?" she said, more a command than a question.

"Aye, my queen." Heimdall said.

"And you will continue to keep track of the Sky Traveler?"

"Aye, my queen."

"Good." Frigga said, before she turned to leave.

She stopped though when Heimdall turned and called her back.

"My queen," he said, catching her attention, "I am loyal to the royal family of Asgard. Yet I cannot say for certain if my oath will come into question should King Odin discover your plans."

Frigga smiled sadly, turning fully to face Heimdall, "I am sorry, Heimdall, for burdening you with this. But rest assured, Odin will not punish you for my orders. I will make sure of it."

"You speak as though he will find out…" Heimdall inquired.

Frigga's eyes hooded slightly, her lips tightening.

"My husband has his ways…" she said seriously.

Just outside the observatory, a pair of ravens crowed over the doorway before they took flight, flying straight for Asgard's palace.

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

**Prodigal**.

Ch. 5

_~S~_

**X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X**

"_Thor…"_

The Thunderer groaned, turning over onto his other side.

"_Thor~"_

Growling, Thor opened his eyes the scantest bit. At first he saw nothing, the inky black of Vanaheim's night nearly blinding to his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, his brain finally waking up as it seemed to register the voice in his ears.

"_Thor, wake up."_

"Mm…?" Thor blinked his eyes open again, frowning into the darkness, "What…?"

A breathy chuckle, full of mischief and knowing. The Thunder God felt his heart skip a beat. That voice, that laugh…

Slowly, Thor pushed himself up from his sleeping mat, the blankets falling off of him with a quiet fabric on skin motion. He blinked into the blackness of the dark night, squinting as a shape shrouded in the darkness caught his eyes.

"_Thor…"_

Thor gasped, instantly reaching for his hammer. His eyes widened and he looked down, finding Mjolnir not strapped to his belt. A soft, focused light then emerged from the darkness, green in color, and he looked up at the figure producing the light.

The figure was mostly indistinguishable, as he wore a green and black cloak, the hood up and concealing the person's face. His black gloved hands were held out, cupped in front of him and holding a glowing green flame. Thor frowned, slowly pushing his blankets fully off himself as he shuffled into a crouch, fists curling into the dirt.

"Who goes there?" he called.

The figure said nothing. Thor scowled.

"I am Thor Odinson, first Prince of Asgard, and I demand you state your bus-"

"_Shh…"_ the figure held one finger up to where his mouth would be, startling Thor. But then he frowned; how dare this peasant ishush/i him!

Thor got up on his feet, gritting his teeth as he pointed a finger at the cloaked man.

"Tell me what it is you come for, peasant!" he snapped.

But the man only chuckled, the timbre low and lilting. Thor felt his face slacken slightly, his eyes widening. He knew that laugh; he's heard it many times before a prank was pulled, or a disaster struck. He's heard it when Thor himself screwed something up, and whenever the Warriors Three or Sif received a scolding when they were younger.

Thor swallowed, the blood draining from his face. His hands shook, and his knees suddenly felt like they had spontaneously turned to rubber. His mouth suddenly turned to sandpaper, and he swallowed dryly around the thick lump in his throat.

"L…Loki…?" he rasped.

A chuckle, low and teasing. A white toothed smile seemed to glow like a crescent moon under the hood, a single gloved hand reaching out to Thor.

_"Will you listen this time, Thor?"_ he asked, _"Or will you still cling to the stories sprouted by the All-Father?"_ Came the beloved and familiar, mocking voice that pulled at the lingering pain brought by his brother's absence.

"B…Brother…?" Thor rasped, unable to comprehend what he was seeing and hearing.

The man – supposedly Loki – said nothing, and only held his hand out further. The sound of running water suddenly caught Thor's attention, and he looked down at a strange sensation around his legs. He gasped, startled and backed up slightly.

'_Where did all this water come from!?'_ he thought.

The water was freezing cold, and had a strange blue glow to it. Thor was oddly reminded of Jotun blood; thick and pungent like his own. The oddest thing though, was that it was only about a foot deep, yet he could not see his feet through the water. Like it wasn't clear at all.

Thor looked up at Loki, eyes wide and confused.

"Loki, what-"

"_Thor,"_ Loki interrupted, _"Do you want to know?"_

Thor blinked, gob smacked, "K-know what?"

"_The truth."_

Thor was still lost, his eyes betraying nothing of his confusion and uncertainty. Loki only sighed, the fingers of his outstretched hand curling slightly.

"_Do you want to know what really happened to me?"_ he asked.

Something in Thor froze then, and his heart throbbed. The truth…of what happened to Loki? What did that mean? He was killed during a prison riot during his banishment.

Loki chuckled suddenly, startling Thor.

"_You truly believe that?"_ he asked humorously, _"You truly believe mere poison could take my life?"_

'_No…'_ was what Thor wanted to say. But no words left his lips, his brain working at a mile a minute. His body felt numb, and he halfheartedly wondered if it was the cold water numbing his nerves. And as if he was on autopilot, his body possessed by some cruel spirit, he shook his head.

Thor could swear he felt Loki smile – or rather smirk. His gloved fingers uncurled towards Thor.

"_Then let me show you."_

Thor nodded numbly, and reached out to take Loki's hand. His fingers brushed against the gloved palm, and through the material he could feel how cold Loki's hand was. Like the skin of a Frost Giant, he radiated cold like a living block of ice. Suddenly, Thor's world tipped, and abruptly found himself under the water. Thor startled, automatically stopping his breathing. Loki floated beneath him, his cloak fluttering in the current.

Thor heard him chuckle, his hood moving slightly away from his head.

"_Let me show you…"_

_SPLASH!_

"AH!"

Panting, Thor sat bolt upright in his sleeping bag, panting shakily with wide, startled eyes. He swallowed thickly, water dripping from his hair and face. He blinked, staring up at his equally stunned looking companions, Fandral looking more triumphant and holding an empty bucket.

"See? I told you it would work!" he said.

Sif was the first to react, blinking dumbly before she scowled. Fandral yelped and dropped his bucket as the female warrior slapped him upside the head.

"What in Hel's name was that?" she snapped.

"It woke him, didn't it?!"

"You didn't need to throw water on him to wake him!"

Behind the two arguing warriors, Volstagg and Hogun sighed, regarding the still confused Thor with sympathetic looks.

"Sorry about that, Thor. Fandral couldn't wait for you to wake up," Volstagg said, "You looked like you were having a nightmare too."

"You were muttering about your brother…" Hogun added.

Thor blinked, flabbergasted. He had been dreaming?

'_Yes…yes, I remember now!'_ he thought.

He had dreamt of Loki. Or he thought it was Loki – it certainly sounded and behaved like him. It was so odd though. It seemed every time he had some kind of a dream, he forgot about it within the first five seconds of waking up. But this time…what had that dream been about? He had only ever dreamed of Loki a handful of times, and that was during his first year without his little brother. Usually they were true nightmares, of Loki about to be killed in some horrendous manner, and Thor could only watch on in helpless horror.

"_Do you want to know?"_

Thor shuddered, that low, sultry voice nearly reeling him. He swallowed dryly as his two friends watched on in concern.

"Are you alright, Thor?" Volstagg asked.

"_The truth."_

Thor nodded numbly – though what he was saying yes to was a mystery even to him. But despite his rather lost expression, the others seemed satisfied with his answer – well, most of them. It became apparent to Thor very quickly that Fandral and Sif were still arguing over why pouring a bucket of water on him to wake him up was a stupid and disrespectful idea.

"-and what gives you the right to do that to a prince of Asgard?"

"He's not complaining! If anything, it was quite funny."

"Fun-!?"

"My friends!" Thor bellowed, kicking his damp blankets off and getting to his feet. He quickly wiped some of the water off his face, approaching the two arguing warriors with ease.

Placing heavy hands on their shoulders, he looked at each of them with an easy smile.

"Sif, I appreciate your thoughts, but I have to admit it was a humorous wake up call," he turned to Fandral, "And just so you know, the next time you are late for waking up, I'll pour hot coffee on you."

Fandral laughed, "Just try it my prince! But what is coffee?"

"A wonderful Midgardian drink I had during my…" Thor paused at the uneasy looks he gained from his friends, and instead cleared his throat, "Yes, anyway. Have we decided our destination yet?"

"Yes!" Volstagg said in his usual jolly bellow. He pulled out a map from his bag and laid it out on a large flat stone that dominated their camp.

"We camped here for the night, and Hogun informs me that the closest village is here." The large man pointed to a small red dot marked on the map, about a half mile from where they currently were.

"We're going to be more or less going on the Norn's favor in our search, as the Sky Traveler is constantly on the move." He added.

Thor nodded, humming thoughtfully as he surveyed the map of northern Vanaheim. The realm was a peaceful, agricultural island – an island that could be more described as a continent if Thor were honest. Hills, fields, and patches of lush forests dominated the fertile lands, dozens upon dozens of villages dotting the land.

And that's all there was to Vanaheim that showed any form of large settlements. Vanaheim had no capitals, grand halls, or castles of any kind. Thor had found it strange, if not confusing, when he learned Vanaheim had no king or queen, or really any form of monarchy. But it was an overall calm land with even calmer people, with a handful of village representatives to speak for and create laws for their individual settlements.

Thor had once asked Hogun, a Vanir, what he thought of the differences between Asgard and Vanaheim. The warrior had not said much, merely that the two realms were rightfully different and boasted their own pros and cons. Though he did make an off-handed comment about the Vanir-Asgard war, not so subtly stating that both realms held hard heads and prideful resolve.

And right now, Hogun was their best bet in locating the Sky Traveler, as he knew Vanaheim like the back of his hand, despite being away from his homeland so frequently.

"This village, will they give information freely?" Sif asked.

"Freely enough," Hogun said, "We may need to work for more detailed information…"

"But surely to Thor they won't demand anything," Sif argued, "He is Asgard's prince, what right do they have to demand payment for a few words?"

Hogun fixed Sif a sharp look, "Vanaheim is a community based solely off farm work and equality. You don't work, you don't eat. You don't give something for what you desire, you don't get it."

"As it is, this is not our realm. The Vanir are a free people, and they have no obligation towards Asgard." Volstagg added.

Sif flushed slightly at the reprimand, but held her tongue as they poured over the map. They decided to saddle up and pack up the minute they decided on a route to take, and would head straight for Frodi's dwelling.

"He is a good friend of my father's," Hogun said, securing his bags to his horse, "The most he would ask for is a strong back and sturdy hands for his gardens."

Thor nodded absently, tightening some straps on his own bags. He paused though, looking down at his hand – the hand that had touched the Loki in his dream. It was so odd, he could still feel the cold his brother radiated in his fingertips, creating a stiff, tingling sensation in his fingers. He swallowed, hand shaking slightly. The dream had been so real, could it have been…?

"Thor?"

The Thunderer looked up, startled to see his companions mounting their horses. Sif, who had called out to Thor, gave him a concerned look.

"Are you alright? You seem a bit pale." She said.

Thro blinked, looking back at his hand again. He frowned, shaking his head, as if to rid himself of his thoughts. He grinned up at Sif.

"I am fine Sif, just lost in thought." He explained.

Though still a bit worried, Sif let Thor be, and he mounted up his horse. And once sure they had packed everything, they all rode off for the village.

Though during the entire trip, Thor could not shake the unease of his dream, especially when he had caught a glimpse of Loki's face. It had not truly been his little brother's face…

It had been a Jotun's.

**~x~x~x~x~x~**

As a land mostly home to farmlands and agricultural plantations, the average village of Vanaheim could not be considered a calm place, but nor was it like a bustling city of noise and activity. Rather, the village Thor and his companions had entered was more like a large market with a few houses here and there. Stalls and stands selling various goods dominated the roads and sidewalks, many Vanir – and even a few out of realm people – nearly congested the narrow streets.

In the end, Thor and his companions had to leave their horses at a guard station, as when combined they were too large to fit through the streets. On foot, with single bags of essentials they did not want to risk being stolen thrown over their shoulders, they trekked through the market for Frodi's hall.

Their eyes skimmed over the various stands of food and other goods, even a few jewelry and trinket stands. Most of the stalls consisted of food and other farm grown produce, but the few that did sell other things were nothing to sniff at.

Thor absently wondered at some of the gold and emerald jewelry they passed. Loki was a rather flashy man, and enjoyed some of the simpler jewelry most men would not even dream of wearing. Thor could easily recall his brother's favorite gold torque necklace, a gift from their mother for his birthday when they were only teenagers. He had worn that necklace every day until the day he died, the gold having dulled from its centuries of wear. He had loved that old torque, no matter the ridicule he got for wearing something so 'womanly'.

It was one of the few things Thor had gotten from Loki before his funeral, Frigga bringing it to him under the assurance that Loki would have wanted him to have it. The torque currently sat in the bag over his shoulders, the Thunder God not being able to part with it for his trip.

"I will trade one pearl for a satchel."

"Nay, I will only accept three for the lot."

Thor turned, catching sight of two men bartering at a stand. One was clearly a Dwarf, the other the stand owner. The Vanir was scowling at the Dwarf, clutching something in one of his hands as eh regarded the shorter man in disdain.

"Come now, what will you do with such trinkets? Plant them and hope to grow a pearl tree?" The Dwarf mocked.

Thor paused, causing his companions to stop. Pearls…

"I believe they would hold more value around my dear wife's neck than in your greedy hands." The Vanir growled.

"Feh! With these dragon scales, you could buy her something prettier!" the Dwarf argued.

"Odd you would say that, considering you are so adamant at having them all."

"Pardon me."

Both the Vanir and Dwarf turned, eyes widening at Thor as he approached them. He surveyed each of the men before him, crossing his arms as he regarded the Vanir man.

"May I ask where it is you got those pearls?" he asked.

"He obviously stole them from Jotuneim, or perhaps got them of the black market." The Dwarf sneered.

"How dare you! I did no such thing!" The Vanir snapped, clutching his hand over what Thor assumed was the pearls.

He frowned at the Dwarf, "What makes you think they are from Jotunheim?"

The Dwarf scoffed, "They are blue, and of a large size. Only Jotunheim has colored pearls, and in such a size. No other realm has seas like theirs, and the strange ore in the bottom of their seas produces a curious kind of sand that results in such pearls. One of them is even almond shaped!"

Thor hummed thoughtfully, his companions looking to one another conspiringly. He looked to the Vanir salesman.

"May I see them for a moment?" he asked.

The Vanir hesitated, obviously not too keen with having such valuable items in another's hands. Hogun suddenly stepped forward, nodding respectfully to the older Vanir.

"We only wish to look, they do not need to leave your hand." He said.

This seemed to calm the man, and he partly held out his hand for the Aesir and Hogun to see. Their brows arched in surprise. The pearls, three in all, were indeedof a large size. Not that they all had much experience with looking at pearls, but even they knew these were not standard sizes – or shapes. The one the Dwarf had mentioned was, in fact, almond shaped, a near perfect imitation of an actual almond. They were all a deep, rich blue – not unlike a Jotun's skin color. Raw and untouched, it was little wonder why the Vanir did not wish to part with them.

They only had but a few seconds to look at them before the Vanir's hand closed, and he pulled his fist back to his chest.

"The Dwarf is right if only in one sense," he said, "They are of Jotunheim – my grandmother owned such pearls before she passed, and I refuse to part with them all."

"Such greed, Vanir." The Dwarf sneered. The Vanir scowled.

"Enough, Dwarf," Thor said firmly, startling the short man, "If it dragon scales you are wanting to trade, a single bag for one pearl is fair. If anything, you would be getting more out of it than the salesman if what you say about the pearls' rarity is true."

The Dwarf stuttered, "B-but your highness-"

"Do not question me, Dwarf, and either trade fairly with the man or leave." Thor rumbled, glaring at the Dwarf.

Face reddening, the Dwarf shook with repressed rage. But nonetheless, he was not willing to be killed for arguing with Asgard's crown prince. He merely gave the Vanir a hard scowl, tossing one of the three bags – about the size of the Dwarf's head – of dragon scales onto the stand counter. Grinning, the Vanir tossed a single round pearl to the Dwarf, who swiftly caught it and stomped away with his things.

The Vanir sighed, looking to Thor gratefully, "I thank you Prince Thor, for helping me to settle the debate."

"It is no trouble," Thor said, before he became more serious, "Though I still wish to know how you came across such rare things."

The Vanir's smile dropped, and he sighed. He tucked the pearls into the inner pocket of his tunic, and tucking the bag of dragon scales away under the counter. He leaned over the stand's counter slightly, his voice low.

"Have you heard of the one known as the Sky Traveler?" he asked.

Thor nodded, "We actually have come to seek him out. He is the one who gave the pearls to you?"

"He traded them actually," The Vanir said, "My far is famous for its fruit trees, and he asked for some seeds and soil from my farm in exchange for five pearls. I traded in two to pay off a couple debts, and these last ones I was saving for my wife."

Thor nodded, the others intrigued, "Do you know anything of the Sky Traveler? Who he is, where he is from?"

The Vanir shook his head, "Not a think. He didn't even stay for dinner when my wife offered, said he had much ground to cover with little time to spare. He worked over at my brother's farm for a couple days for some herbs, but even then he didn't speak much."

Thor frowned, slightly but out by the lack of information. But they seemed to be on the right track as it seemed, and he wasn't about to lose hope.

The salesman went on to say he had met the Sky Traveler last week, and had worked on his brother's far just three days ago. Unlike traditional means, the traveler used powerful Seidr to complete chores and field work – not that the Vanir cared much. As long as the work got done, it mattered not how to them. And it wasn't like his payment demands were hard to meet – everyone he ever worked for was always surprised he asked for such menial things instead of money or something more valuable. But they didn't complain; the work was quick and effective, and the payment was no loss to them whatsoever.

"His horse is quite interesting as well," the Vanir said thoughtfully, "A massive, majestic creature, works very well in plowing the fields."

Thor nodded, mentally jotting down the information. So far, nothing was really standing out, other than the fact that the Sky Traveler seemed to have a large abundance of pearls. Such rare things they were, even those as unmaterialistic as the Vanir valued them.

"And he says nothing?" Fandral asked.

"Well, he speaks, but only when spoken to," The Vanir shrugged, "Other than that, he is rather quiet. Never removes his cloak either and stayed out in the barn. He never takes any rooms we may offer him for the work."

Stranger and stranger still, Thor noted.

"Any reason why?" he asked.

"My wife asked, wondering if he was sick and needed the warmth. But it was not so, as he claims our sun was quite harsh on his skin."

A plausible answer, but even the Vanir didn't even seem to fully believe his own words. Though it is not unheard of for people to have sensitive skin – Dark Elves were actually very sensitive to bright and warm light, particularly sunlight. Perhaps he was a Dark Elf?

"A Dark Elf, perhaps?" Volstagg suggested, seemingly reading Thor's thoughts.

But the Vanir shook his head, "We asked where he was from, but he gave a strange answer…"

"How so?" Thor asked.

"He said, 'I come from winter's cradle'. That is all." The Vanir said, frowning slightly at the odd words.

The others blinked, just as baffled. What a strange answer. The only place they could think of to fit such a description would be Jotunheim, but there was no way he could be from there. He obviously wasn't a Frost Giant, as they could not leave their own realm. He was Aesir sized from what they hear, so unless he was a Jotun runt that somehow got out of the icy realm, there simply was no way to decipher the odd words. And Jotun could not use any magic outside of their usual ice magic as far as they knew.

The Vanir suddenly perked, gesturing down the street.

"Frodi would know more I think," He said, "The Sky Traveler worked for him the longest – about five days. Perhaps he will know more?"

Thor nodded, "Yes, we were actually on our way to see him. Do you know if he is in?"

"He should be. His gardens are in full bloom now, he will likely be home harvesting fruits and herbs."

"Thank you my friend, for being of great help in our search." Thor said with a smile.

The Vanir smiled back, nodding respectfully.

Saying their goodbyes, Thor and his companions trekked for Frodi's home – a large wooden house that seemed more like a modest mansion than anything else. Apparently more than a third of the wooden structure was a greenhouse though, the rest being quaint living quarters for its single resident.

"I shall tell him of our arrival, and our business with him." Hogun said.

No one argued, and they all simply watched as the Vanir warrior approached the wooden door of the large building. Knocking thrice, the door opened but a moment later to reveal an aging old Vanir man.

"Hogun? Dear boy, is that you?" Frodi chortled, squinting his aging eyes.

Hogun inclined his head respectfully, "Aye, indeed Sir Frodi. I have come with Prince Thor and our companions."

"Wonderful! Please, do come in, I wish to hear of your adventurous tales." The elder Vanir ushered everyone inside with the dusty vigor only someone his age could give.

Thor smiled as the old man grinned a gap-toothed grin at him, missing a couple teeth from age. He paused however as his hand seemed to throb, a chill overtaking his fingers.

"Is something wrong?" Volstagg asked, now stuck behind Thor and unable to get through the door.

Thor looked at his hand, frowning. He shook his head suddenly, moving aside to allow his friend inside.

"Nothing, nothing, the fragrance of sir Frodi's home merely stunned me." He said.

Frodi chuckled, "Ah yes, no one can match my flowers' perfumes. Now come, into the living room while I make us some tea."

Everyone shuffled into the cozy, round room that served as the living room. Though it was small, it was comfortably so, and boasted a soothing fragrance that seemed to originate from a large potted plant in the corner. There were no real couches or chairs, but rather a few rows of thick cushions and mats. Hogun, being their wordlessly proclaimed guide and ambassador, instructed everyone to kneel on the mats in front of the larger cushion in front of them, dictating their place as guests in Frodi's home.

And while everyone arranged themselves into not the most comfortable of positions, Frodi took a quick look into the living room, surveying his guests, particularly Thor.

Or perhaps it was the emerald pendant he wore…

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

At first, there was nothing but darkness.

_Drip!_

Thor would think he was in some cavern deep inside the ground or a mountain. It was frigid, and had he been able to see in such darkness, he would be able to see his own breath. The only sound he could pick up on was that of water dripping steadily onto stone, each drop echoing eerily.

_Drip!_

He breathed out heavily, eyes wide open yet sightless in the blackness. He turned his head this way and that, hands reaching out for some form of anchor – he felt like he was floating in space!

_Drip!_

And then, a sound.

_Drip!_

He paused, ears straining against the deafening silence. There was not a sound to be heard – even the dripping of water seemed to spontaneously freeze and silence itself. Thor held his breath, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Someone was in the darkness with him…

_Drip…_

A rustling sound then, and a high pitched, serpentine hissing. Thor froze as what sounded like an animal groaning was heard, and he turned his head to what he believed to be the direction it came from.

He at first saw nothing. He frowned, the darkness receding slightly as a shape began to appear before him.

"_Thor…"_

The Thunderer gasped, veering around completely towards the sound of the whisper. But no one was there – or at least, no one he could see. A slight cracking noise then, like stone finally giving way after centuries of weathering. Thor startled as a low burst of light fell against his back, and his darkness adjusted eyes squinted shut as he turned around to face it.

The sight that greeted him had the scream about to rise through his throat abruptly found itself stuck in his chest. Eyes wide in horror, Thor could only gape in disbelief.

Loki stared back with empty eye sockets, blood and green venom dripping from the empty holes. His emaciated, battered body was tied in a painful arch to a large boulder in the center of the cavern. A large snake hung over him as it steadily dripped acidic venom onto his mutilated face.

Eyeless sockets stared at Thor, and as much as he wished to, the Thunderer was unable to take his gaze off of the gaping black holes. Remains of burned and melted eyes dripped and lay in gelatinous pools in the sockets, more of the noxious fluids having also settled into the prominent dips of Loki's ribs and hollow belly.

His naked body scarred, bruised, and abused, Loki stared at Thor with hollow resolve. And yet, despite his lack of eyes, the Thunderer could swear he saw a raging fire within the soulless pits.

Loki suddenly leaned forward on his knees, sightless gaze never leaving Thor. The snake above him hissed and closed its mouth, turning to stare at Thor as well. And in a clear, angered voice, Loki said,

"_You're a liar."_

The snake hissed, lunging from its perch towards Thor.

Thor screamed.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

And awoke with said scream stuck in his throat, blocked off by his erratic panting.

Thor sat up in his bed panting, eyes wide and unseeing, his entire body soaked in a cold sweat. He swallowed dryly as his vision seemed to clear, the vision of the vicious snake and Loki's battered body slowly vanishing from his sight. He looked down at the thick white sheets over his lap, now partly soaked with his sweat, his night shirt and pants sticking uncomfortably to his torso.

Breath shaky, he turned to look at his roommate, and was relieved to see Fandral – in the second bed across the room – still asleep and undisturbed. The swordsman was snoring away loudly in his bed, not the least bit bothered by Thor's intense nightmare.

The Thunderer sighed, swiping an arm across his brow as he fell back into his bed, kicking his sheets off. He shuddered at the cool air over his damp skin, but willed himself to lay still as his body dried and cooled.

Thor stared up at the wooden ceiling of the guest room, trying valiantly to forget the awful nightmare he had experienced. Why would he dream of such a thing? How could he even unconsciously come up with such a horrid way of torture, and to Loki no less?

Turning his head to the window over his bed, Thor stared out into Vanaheim's night sky. It was quite late, the skies of Vanaheim now painted an almost pitch black color, dotted with glistening stars and a waning moon. Though what time it was, he could not be sure – each realm had its own time-zone, and Thor did not have the mental strength to try and mentally work out what time it could be at the moment. Nor did he really care for that matter.

Thor licked his dry lips, his mouth feeling like sandpaper. He groaned and scrubbed the heels of his hands over his eyes. There was no way he was going to get back to sleep now, or at least not anytime soon. He felt sticky and gross, like he had gone straight to bed after a wrestling match in the mud.

He reached down to his chest suddenly, his fingers brushing against the pendent his mother had given him. It seemed to throb under his fingers, the gem and metal warm from his heated body. He sighed.

Resolving to not even try and attempt going back to sleep, Thor pushed himself up and swung his legs over the bedside. Rubbing his face, he stood up and shuffled for the bathroom just across from his and Fandral's room.

He briefly cast a glance at the room shared by Hogun and Volstagg, Sif having got her own room since she was a girl and, as Frodi said, needed her privacy. Bypassing the rooms, he entered the bathroom, closing the door carefully behind him.

Ten minutes later, his face and body damp from the warm water of a quick pat-down, Thor meandered down stairs into the living area. He sighed, seeing the fire in the fireplace still going weakly, the various seating cushions scattered about. Absently, he threw a couple more logs onto the fire, almost instantly bringing the embers back to life. The smell of burning wood and fragrant orchids wafted through the air, relaxing Thor slightly. Deeply inhaling the floral scent, the Thunderer slumped down onto a cushion with a sigh, staring into the fire tiredly.

He rubbed at his face, eyes still bleary. But he refused to shut his eyes, let alone go back to bed. It seemed that every time he so much as blinked, the image of his beaten and blinded brother invaded his vision.

Thor shuddered, gripping his biceps and biting his lip. Something was nagging at him, like a little alarm was going off in his head trying to tell him he forgot something. The dream, while horrendous, seemed to click with something in his head. It was like he was experiencing déjà vu.

But no, when had Loki ever been bound to a rock and made blind by a snake? It made no sense.

So why couldn't he forget about it…?

"Can't sleep?"

Thor startled, veering his head around with wide eyes. He relaxed minutely at seeing the elder Vanir, Frodi, standing in the doorway of the living room. The old man smiled, tightening the knot of his robe around his waist.

Thor cleared his throat, "I, ah…no, I cannot it seems. It seems as if I have forgotten what it is like to sleep elsewhere besides my home."

Frodi chuckled, shuffling in to take a seat beside Thor, "It is not surprising. It has been quite some time since Asgard's prince has been out and about, or so I hear."

Thor had the good grace to flush slightly in embarrassment. As much as he wished to avoid it, he knew very well that his image within the Nine Realms had greatly deteriorated over the years. Where once he was the Giant Slayer, the Great Thor of Asgard, he was now simple Thor. It's been over fifty years since he did anything to uphold his former reputation after all. But at the same time, Thor was somewhat glad to have his slate wiped clean; perhaps now he could build a better reputation for himself that wasn't just about warring and slaying beasts.

"It has…been a rough few years." He said. Frodi nodded.

"Losing a loved one is painful," he said understandingly, "It haunts us, much like a scar earned in battle. The smallest things can remind us of the one we lost. And like a deep scar, it will always be there to remind us that we still hurt."

Thor blinked in surprise, slightly in awe of the old Vanir. The dark eyes of the elder were slightly glazed, misty even; like he was reliving a painful memory. Thor had to wonder, for how old Frodi was, how many loved ones has he lost in his lifetime?

"Does it ever go away?" he asked instead, voice hopeful.

Frodi only smiled sadly, "It never fully goes away. The pain will always be with us. But we learn to bear and accept it in time. Time does not heal wounds; it is what we do in that time that heals us."

The Thunderer nodded slowly, turning back to look at the fire. In a way, he already knew these things. But he supposed another part of himself hoped that the pain of losing his brother would go away completely. He hoped it would heal like magic and not scar, as if his own brother could heal the wounds left on his heart from his passing.

"_Dear brother, there is no such thing as a perfect healing. Every living thing scars; humans, plants, animals, and yes, even us."_

Thor shuddered. Loki had said those words many years ago, when they had been mere teenagers and Thor had been dumb enough to go toe to toe with an adult Bilgesnipe. He was nearly gored by the beast, but escaped with his life with a long gash across his back. He had asked Loki to heal it before their parents found out, but found the wound had been bad enough to leave a scar, even with healing Seidr.

Every living thing scars…

We are not true gods…

'_So what are we…?'_ he thought.

Beside him, Frodi blinked slowly and observed Thor, a bony hand coming up to point at the prince's chest.

"That pendent you wear…" he started.

"Hm?" Thor looked down, before he clutched at the pendent and turned back to Fodi, "Oh this. Mother gave it to me for luck in my journey."

"And do you know what it is?" Frodi asked.

"Mother called it 'Augunaðr' I believe." Thor said.

"Yes, that is correct," Frodi said with a nod, "Its name means 'serpent eye'."

Thor blinked, "It does?"

"Indeed," Frodi said, "The gem is magic, and is often used to help those how possess it see the truth in lies, to help one see what is truly there and what is not. Snakes do not blink, therefore they cannot miss the slightest moment it can take for one to lie."

"Mother said something similar…" Thor said uncertainly.

"I should hope so…" Frodi muttered, before he seemed to brighten, "But it is merely legend. Such gems are very rare, and many are skeptical of their abilities."

Thor nodded slowly, looking back down at the emerald pendent. Whatever the case, and whatever it may be, he could not find himself parting with such a gem. It reminded him too much of Loki, and there was just something about it that pulled him in. Snakes do not blink, therefore they are not blind to lies. And if they do not blink, they can forever hold ones attention without falter.

Thor turned to look out the window beside them, the sky still dark and inky. He had to wonder just how much time had passed during their arrival at Frodi's domain. It had been close to noon when they arrived, and during that time and until they went to bed, they had not heard a single thing from Frodi about the Sky Traveler.

Instead, somehow the conversation had started and ended with tales of their old adventures back before Loki had died. Frodi seemed quite entertained by all the antics and shenanigans they all got into. And as much as Thor hated to admit it, they had virtually spent their entire day rattling off tales of adventure and folly instead of trying to glean any information on the Sky Traveler.

Although, he had been a bit surprised as well. Frodi had been deeply fascinated with their stories, but particularly of those involving his late little brother. He particularly asked about Loki's tricks, laughing heartily at the tales of pranks he had pulled on them and quite a few others.

Perhaps then it had been Thor's fault they had wasted the day away. Once Frodi had expressed interest in Loki, Thor could not stop talking about him. He prattled on and on about his little brother, as if he were possessed by some overly talkative spirit. It had concerned the Warriors Three and Sif how much he was speaking, especially after fifty years of almost complete silence from him. It was little wonder how Thor had winded himself from talking so much, and by the time he realized he could barely draw another breath, Frodi announced they eat and get some rest; it was late evening after all, and he had plenty of rooms.

Thor hadn't even noticed so much time had passed – and an entire day at that. He often forgot that each realm had its own time zone, as the Midgardians would call it. And apparently Vanaheim had days slightly shorter than Asgard's…

"He was quite a Trickster I hear," he recalled Frodi saying, "Must have been a handful to be around!"

Indeed, Loki had been a handful. Loki was like the fire he conjured; untamable, fiery, and wild. On one hand, he could be as warm and welcoming as anyone else could be. But if you got too close to him, aggravated or added onto the fire, he would burn and consume your very being. And whatever, or whoever, he touched, he affected in some way. During their younger years, it could be in a positive way. But after they became adults, it seemed he literally became the fire he represented; everything he touched or came into contact with went up in flames.

It made Thor wonder; when did Loki become such a dangerous being? When had Loki suddenly become not just Loki, but the Liesmith, Silvertongue, the God of Mischief? When had he changed so…?

Thor could not recall a single moment in their past that would prompt such a change in his brother.

In fact…

He frowned, _'I cannot recall much of my years as a teenager either…'_

How odd…

Frodi suddenly turned to Thor, a knowing grin on his face, "Thor, have you ever heard of the tale of the Vetsgipt?"

Thor turned to Frodi, frowning, "Vetsgipt?" he repeated.

The old Vanir nodded, "Yes. It is the story of the birth of the Jotnar's True God."

The Jotnar had a god? A True God?

Frodi chuckled, reading the surprise in Thor's face, "It is a rather interesting tale, if you would humor an old man and hear it?"

"I – of course, Sir Frodi." Thor said, his full attention now on Frodi.

"Wonderful! Now then, how to start…" Frodi took a moment to gather his thoughts, before he crossed his arms and began,

"Long ago, when the realms were still young, the first king of Jotunheim found himself with child."

"The iking/i was with child?" Thor asked. Frogi chuckled.

"Jotnar are intersexed dear boy. You did not know this?" Frodi teased.

Thor blushed, but said nothing as Frodi continued.

"The king, Nal, and his mate, Ymir, rejoiced at the news of an heir, as did the whole of Jotunheim. However, that joy was not to last. A Civil War had broken out in the frozen land, led by Nal's younger, jealous brother; Thiazi. Spited by his elder brother's recent crowning, Thiazi started a rebellion large enough to match that of the Jotun capital's army.

Sickened with sadness and grief for his beloved brother's betrayal, Nal tried to reason with Thiazi. But it was for naught, and a war was to rage between the people of Jotunheim. Thiazi's army was vast, and the two kings knew much blood would be spilled. Nal's sadness for his brother and his people was so great, his unborn child felt it while still cradle in the womb.

And in sensing its Dam's grief, the child, still in the womb, turned to the Norns for help. Since he was still cradled in the flesh, he was as close as one could get to such true Gods. To them, he begged for a way to stop this war, to make his dear Dam and Sire's sadness vanish.

The Norns agreed to hear him out, but warned him they could not simply give the power to stop a war for nothing. The child must exchange something for what he wishes. The child agreed, and offered three things in exchange for the power to stop a war."

'_What in the Nine Realms could an unborn Jotun offer to the Norns…?'_ Thor thought skeptically.

"He offered to them his size for knowledge. He offered his physical strength for the power of unmatched Seidr. And he offered his horns for the gift of bringing life."

Thor frowned, "How can any of that stop a war? Why did he not simply ask for more strength and greater size to overpower Thiazi's army?"

"Ah, but those things could not stop a war quickly and as painlessly as possible. Now then…" Frodi continued.

"The Norns agreed, and bestowed the child the gifts of unmatched knowledge, powerful Seidr, and the ability to bring forth new life in body and touch.

Bestowed with these new gifts, the child slept within his Dam's belly as he grew and awaited his birth. And when the time came, and the babe was placed in Nal's arms, he knew his child would stop the war.

The child, Loptr, was small – smaller than any Jotun to have ever been born. At first people viewed his size as a bad omen, believing his birth was a sign of their coming loses and decline in power. But even still, Ymir and Nal loved their child, and did everything within their power to ensure he lived a prosperous life…"

Jotnar, loving their children. It was hard for Thor to believe; he had grown up with stories of the Jotnar viewed as nothing but monsters. He had even heard a few stories of desperate Jotnar eating their own children!

"The war progressed in the meantime, and during this time, the child grew not in size but in wisdom and power. And at a tender young age, Loptr mastered his Seidr and utilized his power to stop the war and defeat Thiazi. And this is where his gifts came to fruition…"

Thor leaned forward in anticipation, suddenly engrossed in the story. Truly, how could knowledge, Seidr, and the ability to bring life stop a war?

"With his knowledge, he reasoned with those who could be saved from the war. With his Seidr, he conquered those who did not wish to be saved. And with his touch of life, he restored what was destroyed within Jotunheim.

Thiazi defeated, and his armies decimated, Jotunheim soon settled into a period of peace and prosperity. Loptr was worshiped and revered, called a True God for his power and life giving touch. Jotunheim prospered and lived happily under his rule, even after he passed they prospered. They called him Vetsgipt; Winter's Gift."

Frodi suddenly leanedin closer to Thor conspiringly, lowering his voice.

"And it is said, in times of coming hardship and pain, another Vetsgipt will be born to the royal family. It is said, that during the Asgard-Jotunheim war, that one was born to Laufey and Fárbauti. But no child was ever presented between the two, and so Jotunheim fell without its Vetsgipt. Many say the child was killed during the war. Others say he just disappeared. And only a select few believe he will return to Jotunheim and restore it to its former glory and save the Jotun race from extinction."

The tale ended, Frodi sat back in his seat with an easy grin, seemingly oblivious to Thor's dumbfounded expression.

"But this is just legend, perhaps as a way to explain why Jotun runts are born every now and again." The Vanir suddenly said, startling Thor.

Thor blinked slowly, shaking his head.

"Forgive me, but this sounds very much like a myth. I cannot honestly see the Jotnar as worshiping a runt for any given powers." He said.

Frodi shrugged, "Perhaps, but then again, we all misjudge one another. Have you truly met a Jotun, Prince Thor?"

"Yes, I-"

"No, no, not in combat or battle. I mean have you spoken to one, icivilly/i." Frodi emphasized.

Though a bit stunned, Thor shook his head. Frodi sighed.

"Call me a Jotun sympathizer, but truly, when you are my age, you quickly grow weary of hatred and past squabbles," he said, "Every one of the Nine Realms was affected by the Asgard-Jotunheim war, and I was fortunate – or unfortunate – enough to be around to see it and its devastations."

"I have even met Jotnar before the war, spoken with and befriended a few. They are a deeply intelligent, resourceful people. Proud, willful, as foul and fair as nature herself. None can truly tame the storm or the sea; and the Jotnar are the embodiment of these things."

Hardly sure if he was truly listening, Thor only nodded along with Frodi's words. Though if he were honest with himself, he wasn't truly paying attention. He was hearing what Frodi was saying, but it wasn't processing or computing with his brain. If he had to compare it to anything, it was like he was listening to Frodi saying the sky was purple, fire extinguished water, and rain spouted up from the ground. There simply was no understanding it in the end.

Everything Frodi just described was everything Thor thought the Jotnar were inot/i. The concept of them even having children dropped a ball of nausea into his gut; even more so, he did not want to think such primitive beings could even have children. To say a species had children was to imply they were once innocent, that they were ipeople/i. And people weren't monsters. People were men and women who could not be monsters – it was to imply they were like Thor himself, like his fellow Aesir.

And that was the number one taboo in his realm; to see the Jotnar as people, as equals.

"_And if I were anything but Aesir, Thor? Would you still see me as your brother?"_

Bile rose up into Thor's throat, and the Thunderer abruptly stood from his seat.

"I…think I should try and go back to sleep now," he said, voice tight, "Thank you, for the story. And for speaking with me. Good night, Sir Frodi."

"And to you as well, Prince Thor…" Frodi said with an incline of his head.

Thor nodded, before he stiffly turned on his heels and retreated back to his and Fandral's room.

Back in the living room, Frodi watched as Thor vanished back down the hall and into his room. Humming to himself, he turned to look back at the dying fire in contemplation.

"I must be sure to write to Frigga in the morn…" he muttered.

**~x~x~x~x~x~x~**

"You betrayed me." An almost growled accusation.

"I did no such thing, husband." A calm reply.

"But you did!" Odin snapped, pacing the length of the sitting area.

Frigga did not even so much as flinch at the All-Father's raised tone. She simply sat by primly, hands folded neatly in her lap as she stared ahead, her husband passing by her vision every now and again.

"Odin, you know Thor was bound to find out eventually." She said calmly.

"Not like this!" Odin snapped, turning to look at his wife with a single narrowed eye, "These things take time, preparation! He would have found out when he was crowned, perhaps even before then!"

Frigga scowled, "Like we did with Loki?"

Odin froze, staring his wife down with a fiery, yet freezing, gaze. Frigga did not back down.

"We never discussed when we were going to tell Loki of who and what he was, and I don't think we wanted to for two different reasons," Frigga said, "I did not want to tell him because I feared losing him and his love. You did not want to tell him because you didn't want any possible future plans for him ruined."

"He is a man, he would not have thrown a tantrum like a child." Odin argued.

"How do you know, Odin? How do you know he would not have been hurt? How do you know if he would not have lashed out, that that last thread of hope and respect he may have for us would snap?"

Odin grit his teeth, fists clenching, "Loki was the second prince, it would not be his place or his right to-"

"To what, Odin?!" Frigga snapped, rising to her feet, "Would it not be his right to resent us for virtually locking away who he was like a relic in the vault? Would it not be his right to feel such pain, such anguish, for his last few confidants to finally admit to betraying him? Would it not be his right, as your forsaken given title as God of Lies, to know that you we, his own parents, _lied_ to him?!"

"He is _not_ our child!"

Silence.

Frigga said and did nothing, he angered scowl unreeling. She did not so much as flinch at Odin's words, nor did she make to respond to Odin's atrocious words.

A beat passed between them before anything happened. And it had happened so swiftly, one might think it hadn't happened at all.

_Slap!_

Not even looking at her husband anymore – she didn't even think she could anymore – and turned for the door.

"I will have a few servants come by to move my things to a different room," she said flatly, "You will not seek me out."

The doors to the room closed behind her, leaving Odin with a stinging cheek and a stunned expression. Another beat passed in the room at large, before Odin suddenly roared in a battle cry and flipped the couch Frigga had previously been sitting on. Snarling, the All-Father aced the room like a caged animal, nostrils flaring and teeth gritting.

It took him ten minutes to calm down ever so slightly enough to take a seat in an armchair, placing his face in his hands.

Where in Hel's name did he go wrong in all of this, he wondered.

Knock, knock, knock!

Odin growled, looking up.

"What?" he snapped.

"Uh, my King? I have an urgent letter from King Malekith of Svartalfheim." A servant called from behind the door.

"It can wait." Odin growled.

"Um…my King, his messenger made it clear that King Malekith wished you to read it as soon as possible. It is most urgent."

Growling, Odin stood form his seat and marched for the door. Throwing it open, and nearly knocking the poor messenger boy over, he glowered down at him.

"Well?" he snarled.

The page swallowed, lowering his head and presenting a letter to the All-Father, sealed with the customary black wax seal with Malekith's seal.

Odin took the letter roughly, "Dismissed." He grunted.

The page wasted no time in making a break for the exit, leaving Odin to slam the door to his quarters shut and bring the letter to his desk. He didn't even bother with the envelope opener, and instead not so elegantly tore the envelope open. Roughly pulling the letter out, his single eye skimmed over the neatly written cursive.

He paused at some point, frowning as he went back to read over the letter again, more slowly this time.

By the time he had finished the letter, his hands were white-knuckle and his teeth were gritting, single eye wide in disbelief.

_Dearest All-Father, King Odin,_

_I write to you with saddening news. As of now, and due to more reliable and flexible resources, Svartalfheim shall hereby revoke all matter of trade and treaty with Asgard in favor of Jotunheim. I sincerely apologize for the abrupt cease in our alliance, but a King's duty is to his people, as you should understand. Jotunheim has proven to be the better trade partner, and treaties and alliance contracts shall be drawn in the morn._

_With best regards,_

_King Malekith of Svartalfheim._

To be continued…


	7. Chapter 7

**Prodigal.**

Ch. 7

_A/N~ Yeesh, where the hell have I been? I finally update something, and it's this? God the universe is imploding…XD But fear not my RotG readers! I shall be updating something…eventually…QwQ_

_Please enjoy!_

_~S~_

**X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X~X**

"The Sky Traveler is a pure mystery, an enigma. But he is also a good man, with a heart of ice and fire. Though what his goals and intentions are, are unclear. I cannot say where he is from, as he does not show himself, nor does he speak of his home."

"Where can we find him though?"

"As of now, he is likely at the edge of Vanaheim. He stays in one realm for a limited amount of time, a week at best, and then he will move on. I recall him speaking to his horse, saying that he would enjoy running through the surf and nipping at the seaweed of our coasts. And the only coast worth visiting is to the west, where a fishing town lies."

"Then we shall head to the west coast."

"Aye, and I wish you luck. But be warned, the Sky Traveler is not to be trifled with. Though he is peaceful, he is not harmless. If he feels threatened, he will not hesitate to fight you. And he will defeat you…"

These words had been said by Frodi that morning over breakfast, Thor and his fellow companions gathering as much information as they could on the Sky Traveler. Morning itself had been four hours ago, and it was now early afternoon. And once they had cleaned up and eaten, repaying Frodi with a bit of house work, they found themselves on the road once more.

Their horses trotted at a steady pace towards the next village, following a beaten dirt trail through meadows and forests. The smell of sea water and surf was steadily becoming more potent, and if they strained their ears, they could hear sea birds in the distance.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Fandral, unusually nervous, questioned.

"What? Are you scared of a Seidr user?" Sif mocked.

"Of course not! I am merely uncertain as to whether we are wasting our time or not," Fandral defended, adjusting his reins, "Lord Frodi said that the Sky Traveler was nomadic. For all we know, he's on the other side of Yggdrasil by now!"

Thor rolled his eyes, "Calm yourself Fandral. If he is not here on Vanaheim, we will simply contact Heimdall and ask if he can see him elsewhere."

"Heimdall said he cannot see the Sky Traveler…"

"Why are you suddenly so apprehensive, my friend?" Volstagg inquired curiously, "You're not seriously intimidated by him are you?"

Fandral sighed, "I just think that maybe we...need to rethink how we are going about this."

Everyone stopped their horses abruptly, four heads veering around to face Fandral with wide, stunned eyes. They all blinked dumbly at the blond swordsman, and Sif moved her horse closer to Fandral's. She reached up and felt his forehead, frowning.

"He is not feverish…" she said.

Fandral scowled, swatting her hand away, "I am serious! I have just been thinking-"

"A dangerous venture…" Sif droned.

"-that perhaps we are being too hasty," Fandral ignored Sif's remark, "What do we even know of the Sky Traveler? Sir Frodi is obviously no fool, and if he felt it right to warn us of just how powerful the Sky Traveler was, perhaps we just need to rethink how we are going to approach him."

Sif scoffed, expression darkening, "You sound just like Lok-"

She paused, catching her words quickly in her mouth with a swift click of her teeth. The Warriors Three seemed to cringe, lowering their gazes. No one dared to look at Thor. Sif herself absolutely refused to look at the Aesir prince, her hands tightening around the reins. Tension was thick around them, not unlike an invasive fog. Even the horses seemed uncomfortable, shifting anxiously in place, small nickers escaping their velvety lips.

The warriors and Sif startled, thunder rumbling in the distance. The sky had gotten significantly darker, and if they looked up, they would see clouds rolling in from seemingly nowhere. Finally, they chanced a glance at Thor, uncertain.

Thor was not looking at them, but rather at the back of his horse's neck. His knuckles were white, tight as they were around his reins. His poor horse, Lightning, was fidgeting in place with the ticking time-bomb on his back. The stormy expression he likely wore was unseen by the Warriors Three and Sif, as he was looking straight ahead and not at them.

But if they could see his expression, they would not see a face of rage, but of conflict. Thor was not so much enraged at Sif's tactless statement, but thoughtful. In a way, he felt a sense of the Midgardian term of déjà vu. He blinked slowly, his jaw tightening in memory.

"_Thor, you are being stupid, walking into what is obviously a trap."_

"_You cannot just go swinging your hammer about and expect to get out without a mess!"_

"_You need to THINK Thor."_

"_For ONCE in your life, LISTEN TO ME…!"_

"_**LISTEN TO ME!**__"_

Thor shuddered, feeling something clench in his chest. How long…had it been since he actually listened to his brother's advice? His brother, who was to be his right hand, his adviser when Thor was crowned? When had he ever actually listened when he was trying to do his job?

"Never, because you never cared for my opinion…"

Thor startled, tugging Lightning's reins and causing the horse to nicker anxiously. That voice again, mocking, cold as ice, and as sharp as the poisoned daggers the voice's owner wielded. It never seemed to really occur to Thor, his various ways of brushing his brother off. How Loki's suggestions for a safer or even quicker way to solve something were always shoved aside in favor of 'honor' or 'courage'. The warrior's way – it overshadowed Loki.

"Or perhaps it is YOU who has always overshadowed me…"

"Thor…?"

He heard one of his companions – Volstagg it seemed – tentatively call his name. He did not respond, but he felt his once tightly wound resolve loosen slightly. The sky still remained overcast though, and the slight rumble of thunder in the distance was still present.

The burly, red bearded man cleared his throat, shifting uneasily on his horse, "I am sure Sif meant no ill will towards-"

"We should keep going." Thor cut in suddenly, startling everyone.

The Warriors Three and Sif looked to one another uncertainly, before Fandral spoke up once more.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Thor finally turned to them, causing their jaws to tighten and their resolve to harden. But his expression was purely blank, not a single emotion or otherwise present on his face. But his eyes were clear and icy, almost frigid.

"Yes." Was the stony response.

And no sooner did he say that single word, did Thor gently kick his horse back into a gallop. The others soon followed without pause, though continued to feel uneasy throughout the trip. Silence reigned between them all, thick and heavy, not unlike fog. The smell of the sea was growing stronger, and even now the sound of crashing waves could be heard. Grass was fast becoming overwhelmed by rocks and sand, their trail obscured slightly by the soft grains.

"Fandral…"

The mentioned warrior startled, the others visibly tensing and moving away from him. And as if seeming to sense his rider was being called to, the horse Fandral rode galloped closer to Thor's, bringing the two men at near perfect eye level. Fandral almost cursed at his horse, but nonetheless acknowledged his prince.

"Yes?" he inquired uncertainly.

At first Thor said nothing. But after a brief pause, he soon turned to Fandral with a very strange look in his eyes. The blond warrior was hard pressed to compare it to anything other than…possibly remorse? Regret?

"Your council is much appreciated," Thor said suddenly, "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps we can take a day to think things over and then see where our decisions take us on our journey."

Behind the two, the reaming warriors gaped and stared at the two blond men's backs. Sif seemed especially stunned, her brows high and eyes wide. Hogun's stunned expression was quickly wiped out and replaced with his usual blank stare, but beside him Volstagg seemed to eventually grin with a sense of pride. Though why, no one would really ever know.

Fandral though seemed the most surprised, blinking owlishly at Thor. The Aesir prince smiled slightly, before redirecting his gaze forward once more.

"We are here." He said suddenly.

Looking ahead, the Warriors Three and Sif finally laid eyes on the fishing village they were to seek. With the strong wind of the sea, the crashing waves brought on by the overcast sky, and the rumbling thunder, it did not make for the most pleasant image. They could see many Vanir packing up their shops, and shoppers and farmers gathering their families to no doubt find shelter from the coming storm.

It was a bit eerie, this grey, gloom ruled village. But either he ignored it, or simply did not acknowledge it was unknown, as Thor slowed his horse into an easy canter as they neared the village.

They followed without protest – at least, not any vocal protest – as they searched out the village for a place for them to stay. Eventually, Fandral found a small tavern and inn near the docks. They all quickly holed up inside after settling their horses in a nearby stable. And just as the last of them entered the inn, it began to rain.

Unsurprisingly, the inn was packed, mostly with trading Vanir and a few off-realm people. Among such a crowd, it was easy for Thor and his companions to become a bit scattered. Everyone seemed to find their own little niche in the inn. And after securing a few rooms for themselves, everyone was either off drinking, engaging in a few gambling games, eating, wooing a few tavern wenches, or in Thor's case, seeming a bit lost.

The Thunderer shifted from foot to foot in the middle of the tavern, uncertain as to what he should be doing. He contemplated possibly just going to bed early – but it was a bit too early, not even five yet. In the end, the Thunder God simply gave up on trying to sort his thoughts, and approached the bar.

He took a seat on one of the bar stools, hunched over ever so slightly in thought. He scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly, groaning lowly to himself.

Norns, he felt exhausted. Though why, he was not sure. He hadn't done anything today other than ride his horse for most of the day. His head seemed to throb in perfect time with his pulse, and he had the unsightly urge to introduce his forehead to the damp bar top. A part of him contemplated ordering a drink. But looking back on his past history of drinking while under stress, he decided against it.

Odd, he had never really given much thought to his more unpleasant antics until Loki died…

A heavy clunk was heard then, and Thor looked up in surprise. He stared at the frosty looking tankard of mead placed before him, almost in accusation. Looking up higher, he met the eyes of the aged Vanir bartender, who was giving him a wry look.

"…I did not order this." Thor said.

"Aye, you did not. That is courtesy of the gentleman at the end of the bar," the Vanir said, before adding a bit humorously, "You look like you could use it anyways."

A call from the other side of the bar prompted the bartender into leaving Thor to stare dumbly at his drink. He blinked, before he turned his gaze upwards to look up at the end of the bar.

The bar itself was mostly empty, and he could easily see someone sitting at the very end near the wall connecting to the counter. It was darker in that little corner of the bar, and all Thor could make out was he was wearing a cloak with the hood up, a small glass of amber liquid before him. Thor quirked a brow, watching the stranger lift the glass with gloved hands to his hidden mouth.

This wasn't the first time someone in a bar or tavern sent him a drink – usually it was women trying to gain his attention. This was the first time a man had sent him a drink, and his intentions were at the moment a mystery. He did not seem interested in gaining Thor's attention like most women were. He wasn't staring at Thor or gesturing him over conspiringly, and nor was he giving any sign of wanting to even really gain the Thunderer's attention – not counting the drink.

Suspicious, Thor frowned and turned to look at the bartender, who was now cleaning a few tankards.

"Did he say anything?" he asked.

The bartender shook his head, "Nay, only to get you the drink, and that it was on him."

Very suspicious. But then again, for all he knew, he was just a kind bystander noticing the Asgard prince was just having a rough day. It wasn't exactly hard to miss; your first clue would be the rather violent downpour going on outside. And if that wasn't his first hint, his rather telling presence was one as well. The typical position of a man hunched over a bar, head in his hands and not drinking a thing was a well-known sign of a man in a possible depression.

"He said nothing else?" he asked. The bartender shrugged.

"Nothing much else, other than the ah…off-handed comment he made about you…" the bartender became uneasy then, and Thor quirked a brow.

"What did he say about me?" he asked.

Lips thinning, the Vanir cleared his throat discreetly and looked away, "He…may have called you something…"

Thor sighed, tired of this game, "Please just tell me what he said exactly, I will fault you not for someone else's impertinence."

The bartender sighed, setting his rag and tankard aside, "He said, and I quote, 'get that hammer-swinging oaf a drink, on me'…"

Thor blinked, feeling a sense of déjà vu. Hammer-swinging oaf…that had been one of Loki's favorite insults to Thor. He hadn't heard that phrase in over fifty years. And to hear it being said by a stranger…

"…excuse me." Thor said, standing from his seat. He ignored the startled jump from the bartender and gathered his tankard, moving down the bar counter towards the stranger.

He passed many others on his way, a few women shooting him coy and telling looks. He ignored them though, and strode towards the cloaked man. Now behind the other, he cleared his throat to make his presence known. The stranger at first did and said nothing to Thor, as if he were unaware of the Thunderer's presence. Or he was ignoring him…

He cleared his throat once more, but again, yielded no response. Now nearly scowling, Thor reached out to touch the other man's shoulder.

"I heard you quite clearly, Aesir prince," Thor startled from the low, almost sneering tone, "If you would refrain from touching me, I would be most grateful."

Thor blinked, dumbfounded. How…how dare he-?!

"And if you have come to thank me for the free drink, you need not bother," the man said offhandedly, "Had I had known it would prompt you into seeking me out, I would not have bothered…"

…it was odd, how despite the plethora of disrespect and outright insults, Thor could not find it in himself to be angry at the impudent stranger. For some reason, the outright scathing tone did not arise anger within him but…familiarity?

He almost wanted to laugh. The stranger almost sounded exactly like his late brother.

"And had I had known you were so disrespectful, I would have made a better effort to annoy you." Thor suddenly said.

The stranger seemed shocked, and Thor himself was also quite surprised at himself. It had just come out as if by reflex. Thor could feel a strange sensation arising in his gut, and anticipation welled up inside of him.

And without another word, he took the spare bar-stool by the stranger. Setting his tankard on the bar counter, Thor simply looked on ahead of the bar and sipped his drink at leisure. The hooded man regarded Thor coolly.

"Can I help you, Aesir?" he almost hissed.

Thor shrugged, "Perhaps. You have the option of me drowning my sorrows in mead, or we can discuss my reasons for leaving Asgard to chase a prodigal traveler. Or we can talk about the weather..."

The stranger seemed to cock his head, as if curious. He swirled his drink elegantly, his gloved, slender fingers contrasting against the clear glass of amber liquid.

"As much as I would enjoy watching you in a drunken stupor," he started slowly, "I believe I have better things to do than play nursemaid to your, Aesir."

"I happen to have a name," Thor said flatly, "It is-"

"I know who you are, Thor Odinson," the man interrupted sharply, "But that does not mean you have earned the honor of me calling you by your name."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Thor asked sharply; the stranger's arrogance seemed to grow by the minute it seemed.

"You know nothing of me, nor I you. What gives you the idea we are suddenly on a first name basis baffles me," was the almost sarcastic reply, "And besides, you are not my Prince, nor my King or companion. If you wish to have a mindless conversation, go back to your Idiots Three and Sif."

Thor made as if to reprimand the stranger and his insults, but he paused. Confusion fell over him suddenly, and he did not understand why at first. It was as if something had flown right over his head, and he only just now noticed but completely missed just what it was. Moments ticked by, before it suddenly seemed to hit him.

"…that is a rather degrading name you have given to my companions." He said carefully.

Pausing from taking a sip of his drink, the stranger seemed to contemplate the Prince's words. He muttered something too quietly for Thor to hear, but it sounded like he was quietly berating himself. He set his drink down with a sharp click, tightening his cloak around himself.

"Not everyone regards you lot as the oh so resilient warriors of Asgard." He said sharply.

Thor frowned, "But why do you look down upon us so harshly? Surely we have not met, let alone done you any wrong."

A pause settled over them. And in that moment, the tavern grew colder for no apparent reason. At first Thor thought it was just him, but after catching a few other residents demanding the bartender close the windows and light the fires, he knew it was not so. Many of the men and women in the tavern were moving away from him and the stranger, as if the cold was at its most potent in their little corner.

The air was frigid – just like the man who sat next to him.

"…sometimes, the most painful of things can come from not a weapon, but from words and actions sharper than any knife or sword," the stranger said softly, calmly, "Tell me Aesir, have you ever scarred anyone with your words and actions?"

Thor frowned, "Of course not. Words are not my strongest attribute, I could never hurt anyone unintentionally with them. Nor are my actions so careless that I could injure someone on accident."

The stranger seemed thoughtful, but did not look at Thor. Rather, he seemed to regard the back of the bar with an intense stare. The room seemed to grow colder then, and Thor felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"You truly are a gifted liar," he said, "You even lie to yourself and fully believe it. I am impressed."

Thor stared in wide eyed bewilderment as the stranger stood abruptly. He downed the rest of his drink, before tossing his payment for his and Thor's drink on the bar.

"I thank you for your company, Aesir," he said tersely, "And I wish you a good eve."

And with that, the stranger turned with a swish of his cloak, wove through the throng of people, and left. And the moment he stepped out the door and into the heavy rainfall, the tavern seemed to warm and lose that frigid atmosphere. It was no longer cold, and new complaints of it now being too warm arose from the many drunk men and women.

Thor was left momentarily stunned, if not insulted. He scowled, but he was not about to let some random stranger get to him. He raised a good point; they did not know each other. And if it was one thing he learned from his days on Midgard, and his years without his brother, t is that some confrontations simply were not worth undertaking.

He sighed, turning to regard his mead, but found his desire for the drink stifled. A glint to his right caught his attention, and he turned to look at the small leather bag the stranger left with his payment. Mostly silver coins with one of two gold pieces, and what appeared to be-

Pearls.

Thor gaped, stunned into silence. That man…no, he could not have been…

He looked up as the bartender came over to collect his payment, and he too paused at what was in the bag.

"Did he leave this?" the bartender asked, referring to the cloaked man.

Thor did not answer. Instead, he abruptly rose from his seat and bolted for the door, ignoring the startled protests of the people he virtually bowled over in his sprint.

Bursting through the swinging double doors, Thor looked around through the heavy rain. The sky had dimmed significantly from both the clouds and coming dusk, and he could see virtually nothing through the gloom.

A horse…people said the Sky Traveler rode a black horse!

Thor rushed for the holding stables where his and his companion's horses waited. He startled the large equines with his sudden appearance, but he pushed past them as he looked around.

Nothing. There were horses present, but none of them were black or of the statue described by Frodi or other witnesses. Swallowing thickly, Thor looked over at his own horse. But the stallion only fixed his owner a look of confusion, a bundle of hay hanging from his mouth.

He was gone. Thor had completely missed his chance to…

To what?

Why was he suddenly so desperate to speak with the Sky Traveler? He had wished to seek him out, but never had he felt such desperation to meet another person; let alone someone he literally had never met up until now.

So why…?

"Thor?"

The named Thunderer turned, catching sight of Volstagg standing in the entryway of the stable. The large bearded man wore an expression of concern as he approached Thor.

"Are you alright?" he asked, "You ran out of there as if the Norns themselves were after your hide."

Thor opened and closed his mouth, speechless. He really was unsure as to what he should – or could – say to the warrior. So instead of going into a detailed explanation, went with his more customary approach of lack of subtlety.

"The Sky Traveler was here." He said.

Volstagg blinked, "What?"

Thor then went on to explain what he had seen, and who he had met. He at first did not realize who he was talking to, and it only now seemed to come to him just how much he had missed. The stranger wore a cloak of emerald and black, exactly as described by many others. He did not lower his hood, and he paid the bartender almost in a gross amount with a large colored pearl.

Volstagg took in the new information in stride, as was the customary way of men his age. Thor could admire his calm and focused composure, and could only hope he would one day be as composed as his friend.

When he was finished explaining, Volstagg became contemplative, stroking his beard.

"And you are sure it was him? The Sky Traveler?" he asked. Thor nodded.

"I am certain," he said, "I cannot explain it, but I just know it was him."

"I understand," Volstagg reassured, "But now the question remains; where did he go?"

Thor could not answer. So he only shook his head.

Volstagg laid a beefy hand on his Prince's shoulder, giving the blond an encouraging grin.

"Come, let us go inside and discuss this with the others," He said, "Perhaps they have heard or seen something from the people of the tavern. People like the Sky Traveler are hard to miss, and even harder to not talk about."

Thor smiled weakly, nodding. He allowed the larger man to lead him back into the tavern. Around them, the rain continued to fall heavily. But the air had become colder, and by the time they had entered the tavern, the brutal rainfall had turned into a tranquil snowfall.

~x~x~x~x~x~

In another realm far from Vanaheim, an equally peaceful snow was falling over a towering palace of ice and frost. Within its depths, a family was quietly passing the time in a large sitting room.

The Jotnar, all in varying heights and sizes, sat by quietly in the stillness of the icy palace. One of them, the smallest yet broadest of the three, was lying in a state of boredom on his stomach on the floor, scrutinizing the book in front of him. His elder and larger brother sat in an armchair, regarding a few reports placed before him from their General. The third, the eldest and largest, sat primly on a loveseat, flipping through an Elven novel, every now and again quietly sipping from the cold drink at his tableside.

The silence was comforting, only ever broken by flipping papers or turning pages. But like all forms of silence, it was destined to be broken.

The smallest of the giants groaned, planting his face into his unread book.

"I'm so bored…!" he groaned.

"That's nice…" the elder said flatly, barely paying his brother any mind.

The youngest scowled up at his brother.

"I mean it Helblindi, I'm dying of boredom." He snapped.

"And what do you expect me to do, Byleistr?" Helblindi replied without looking up from his work.

Byleistr growled, considering the cup sitting beside him. It was only half drunk, but the bone it was made from would make it a decent projectile.

"Do not even think about it, child." Came the low, rumbling tone of the eldest Jotun.

Byleistr pouted, but conceded.

You do not disobey your Dam when he was using that tone.

Byleistr pouted all the same, kicking his feet lazily in the air.

"I miss our brother…" he muttered, "He's not boring like you, Helblindi."

Helblindi fixed his youngest brother a flat look, but did not comment. Their Dam, Laufey, only chuckled, flipping a page of his book.

"That is enough you two," he said calmly, "Your brother tells me he shall return within a few days. You must be patient."

"I hate waiting…" Byleistr muttered, before he grinned widely, "You think he'll bring us presents this time?"

"For us, yes. For you, no." Helblindi scoffed.

Byleistr made to retaliate, but stopped when their Dam closed his book with a quiet snap.

"Honestly, your brother leaves for but a week, and you two bicker and squabble without his influence…" he sighed.

The two brothers had the grace to seem embarrassed. The elder Jotun sighed, reaching a hand out to his youngest. Eagerly, Byleistr scrambled to his feet and took the offered hand, allowing himself to settle against his Dam's side. A large hand carded through his white hair, stroking the base of his curved horns.

"Be patient my heart, and he shall return in no time," Laufey rumbled, "And who knows, perhaps he shall bring you a new weapon to swing about."

Byleistr grinned widely, snuggling into his Dam's side. Helblindi rolled his eyes, but was smiling fondly at his parent and sibling. He suddenly frowned though, regarding his Dam.

"You told us he was in Vanaheim at this time, yes?" he asked.

The elder nodded, and Helblindi's frown deepened.

"Aesir Prince Thor and his Warriors and Lady Sif are there…" he said, "Rumor has it they are seeking out the Sky Traveler."

Laufey felt Byleistr tense at his side, and he curled an arm around his shoulders to hold his wayward child in place.

"Is that so?" he inquired. Helblindi nodded.

"Rumors of Prince Thor leaving Asgard have spread quickly," he said, "Though there are many speculations as to why. But many say he is seeking the Sky Traveler…"

He scowled suddenly, hands crinkling around some papers.

"Some even say he is seeking the Sky Traveler to see if he can revive his lost _brother_."

Laufey's eyes narrowed, and he felt more than heard Byleistr growl at his side. He stroked his head soothingly, earning a low whine from his youngest.

"Tis a shame that they shall not find him…" he said evenly.

"But if they do…?" Helblindi urged.

Laufey sighed softly, turning to look out a window and into the lightly falling snow. He did not outwardly show it, but he so missed his dear little giant. They barely had any time together these days, what with him running off to find answers to everything that was wrong in their realm. The ventures were admirable, and Laufey could feel his heart swell with pride for his child.

But even still, he was a Dam, a mother, and he worried all the same. And to hear that someone who hurt him so terribly in the past was seeking him out…

Ice grew and collected around his clenched fist around his cup, freezing his drink.

"Hel hath no fury like that of a mother's scorn…" he growled.

Message received, Helblindi went back to his work, and Byleistr worked to fight off sleep against his Dam's side. Laufey busied himself with playing with his son's hair, his gaze distant.

It was quiet once more.

To be continued…


End file.
